Best Cyrene Poems
Our Jesus is condemned to die
Oh, Savior, now from Earth- you part.
You do not sigh, nor do you weep,
Though our sins have pierced your heart.
Dear Jesus bears the Holy Cross,
Our Savior of all humankind,
For us, you start this journey now;
Still, endless love for us you find.
Our Jesus falls beneath the Cross;
So dreadful now to bear this pain.
Dear Jesus, when we fall to sin,
Please help us rise up once again.
Our Savior meets his Mother dear,
Mary, anguished and depressed,
Please help us face our sorrows too-
Live up to all our trying tests.
A man named Simon of Cyrene-
Appears to help our Savior’s plight
To lift the weight of his great Cross-
Lord, burden us to spread your light.
Veronica wipes our Savior’s face.
Look now! His imprint's there to stay!
Please on our souls your imprint make
And help us keep it there, we pray.
Dear Jesus falls down on the path,
Again now for the second time.
But soon he rises to go on,
Lord, help us please, to stay in line.
Our Jesus meets some women now,
They kneel down to mourn and weep.
“Weep not for me,” he says to them,
“But for your children, the lost sheep.”
Our Jesus falls again, this time
His journey's nearly at an end.
Dear Jesus, when we fall to sin,
Grant us the wisdom to amend.
Our Lord now stripped of all his clothes-
This torture is so sad and cruel.
Please, Jesus, strip our souls of sin;
Our hearts and souls, you always rule.
Our Jesus now nailed to His Cross-
Your death, dear Lord, is very near.
Sweet Savior nail our souls to you,
And grant us grace to have no fear.
Oh, the dreaded Crucifixion!
Our Jesus now so humbly dies,
While all the sins and sins to come-
Are placed before his tear-filled eyes.
Our Lord is gently taken down,
In his dear Mother’s arms is placed,
Oh Mary, Mother of our God,
Help ease our sorrows to be faced.
Now, Jesus placed inside his tomb,
To rise again on Easter Day-
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
Oh! Great day of Resurrection!
From tomb, he rises to the sky,
With all God’s angels by his side-
He joins his Father up on high.
Oh! Great day of Resurrection!
He rose again on Easter Day!
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
The waves crushing her tiny body with striking blows
White creamy wash caresses her golden skin as the wave slows
Moving sluggishly towards the horizon
Because of a recurring vision she hopes she’ll arise in
Her feet digging deep into the sand as it sinks between her toes
Emersed, with arms folded she prepares and off she goes
The cool oceans breeze kisses her beet-red cheeks
It knows what she’s come for and what she seeks
Sunshine drips onto coppery auburn locks shimmering, it lifts
A pale honey-wheat straw sunhat spins away and drifts
Almost completely submerged in salty brazen waters
Compelled at this point with the nauticus mythic plotters
Shut against blaring sunrays are her deep emerald eyes
Her sunburnt face gazing up at vanilla skys
She meditates on what had before appeared, a glimpse
Of the siren with long flowing raven hair and other nymphs
Teeth chattering to tapping sounds like wooden castanets do
Contain her trembling lips she can’t, they turn purplish merlot-blue
Shaking from an Autumn’s cold spell, she imagines she’s a mermaid
But diving in opaque murky silt wasn’t what she had expected
Her bare flesh emerging from impure poisonous rot of green
Blood red ripples dripping from the clouds that are unseen
Neither she nor the fierce Cyrene, Apollos wife the naiad should dread
Numbing overcomes her at last she hears the siren singing in her head
Paralyzing fragments of her hallucination now bestow
A gifted sacrifice her (secret thoughts) needed for soothing waves to flow
In the distance a cranberry sun sets, now streaks of pink implores
A darkened blue-green sea, maroon and sapphire shores
A beautiful mermaid appears and thanks her for her secret thought
That only love for the deep blue sea (the ocean is life) and to all this be taught
(Part One) The first few hours.
I was just a ordinary man
caught up in the unruly throng,
The mob jeering and ranting
insults on the road along,
I pushed and shoved my way
through all the furore
to see what all the fuss and melee
was all about at the fore.
My heart shrunk as I eyed
in total dismay that ghastly sight,
From what befell my eyes, that Friday morn
befouling that dawning day with blight,
Was a Man sparsely clad, and bloodied soiled,
And about fifteen and a half hands tall,
His nut brown shoulder length hair
now caked and matted in disarray.
The way His hair and beard
was parted in the middle down
i knew that Man then
was belonging to the Nazarene Sect,
And brutally entwined upon His head
was a brambled thorny crown,
What more torturous and bestial
torment can a naked body be subject,
His body oozed and dripped sweat
all mixed with blood and grime,
And even more the gruesome
was the criss-cross lashes mark,
So visible, as He staggered along
on that arduous path that morning time,
Dragging a fifteen cubit long sycamore
torture-stake on His shoulder, bared stark.
His back bent and racked in obvious pain
bearing that one and a half hand in diameter log,
Then when, He stumbled in His stride
and before the Roman Centurion Him wanted to flog,
For that Man's wretched agony
and pain, I no longer could bear to stand,
Then in haste that Man to help
I shed my outer garments and tossed it to another man,
I stayed the Centurion's hand
and hoisted that stake upon my own broad back,
For I was Simon an Grecian man from Cyrene
and favoured arduous labourous toil,
When that frail worn-out Man turned
with blue-grey eyes and looked at me,
I saw in that look, relief and gratitude
then I knew, I did just right,
He sadly smiled as He said these words to me,
"Do you too now drink from this bitter cup?",
And added, "You shall indeed sip
its rim with Me to the end of time",
I knew Him then no ordinary, man could be
His voice so gentle and mild,
And I truly then wandered who this Man could be?
to suffer so cruelly, in the hands of man,
When He lightly placed His hand
upon my shoulder, I felt the load lightened,
as if I walked with a feather
on my back, and not His gruesome burden no more,
As we together trudged, on that path
that road, to Calvaria, that place of death,
I then knew that Man at my side
Was a Holy-man by His touch alone.
(Part3) Home, The Realization and Blessing,Finally.
Here where I reside in Cyrene in the country
of Cyrenaica later to be known as Libya, now in Africa
so far has the news hailed, to cheer me on,
For that Holy-man of Judaea never died
my days henceforth shone bright above for me,
They said too that He truly was a King
a Son from the Davidic Royal line,
A King without an earthly throne to sit upon.
But for me that Holy-man will forever be
A Prophet on High, a Son of God
so much more than, a mere earthly king,
And all this I say without a doubt in mind
for I was there, I felt His touch
I heard His words, I saw the look in His eyes
because of Him I tread this earth
so much the lighter now.
Now at the close of day and at my hearth
bathing in the warmth of the fires glow,
My thoughts are more and more upon
that Man of God, that man Jesus
whom I helped that awful day,
And I wander if He knows He has helped me more
than He will ever know for now I feel so
much closer and grateful to my God.
To my God whom I Worship every day
even more so, now that I have met His Son
His Son, who so has suffered, the the hand's of sinful man,
He suffered shame and degradation
all to redeem Men, all to show Man the Resurrectional Way,
All for Man's sake and for that day, I am so truly blessed,
And His words to me "You too will sip this cup
with Me unto the end of time", those words now seared into my soul.
As modern Christians, we overlook
the meaning and purpose of Good Friday,
when Christ was crucified on a dreary day...
to bear our sins on His shoulder.
From the Via Dolorosa to distant Golgotha
too heavy and painful was the wooden cross
He carried through the streets of Jerusalem
as people spitted on Him and laughed;
and with deep sadness and pity:
Jesus told the weeping women...
not to cry for him but for their children.
And one of them wiped the blood off
His pale face with a soft cloth...
to comfort Him in His final hours.
The mocking and laughter continued at the gate,
as Simon of Cyrene was ordered to carry the cross
to Calvary and before nine o' clock...
Jesus faced an excruciating crucifixion
by the Romans soldiers who had
the sharpest nails for his hands and feet;
and Jesus words loudly spoken in the Temple echoed again
in that afternoon getting cloudy and dark,
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who murdered
the Prophets..." But the wickedness of the crowds
was too extreme to understand their despicable deed.
And there crucified as an impostor,
He cried out to His Father, " Eli, Eli...lama sabachthani?"
There was no answer...only a deadening silence had prevailed.
But Jesus trusting in Him whispered," Father, into your
hands I commit my spirit." And in saying so He expired.
Soon after there was a powerful earthquake strong enough to shake
the Temple's foundations...day became night
as everyone ran downhill so terrified.
The astonished centurion, witnessing the horrifying event,
exclaimed," Surely He was the Son of God!"
Like good Christians, we must remember the long and agonizing hours
of Christ passion and death...oh, how precious
was the divine blood He spilled to redeem us!
And as He was resurrected, so we'll be resurrected by the trumpets!
(Part 2) The Next Few Hours,Then Homeward.
To soon, the road an end did come
and I that dreaded stake to the ground did lay,
Where without ado, they laid that Holy-man down,
Over that stake and through both His hands
that they placed above His head, and home they drove
that awful iron spike, and not a murmur or cry
did that Holy-man uttered in pain, that morn,
Not even when they spiked His feet, apart to the post
Then three plagues in mockery was nailed to the post
above His hands, in the languages used most common
at the time, one in Latin, I read out to myself
reading, Iesus Nazarenus Rex ludaesrum,
Then below another in Greek and one in Aramaic,
The latter I could not read and spoke but a bit,
Now anger and rage was seething through my veins
away I had to flee, away from that gruesome scene.
Away I fled, a half league or more, I paused
my need to rest and myself to calm,
Never could I understand the bestiality's of man
there under a barren Olive tree, I laid me down
and soon asleep I fell, for the horror to escape,
It was the chill of the afternoon that woke me
in the haze of sleep I heard an anguished
cry, rendered from the heart in a voice loud,
In Aramaic, I could tell sounded clear
"Eli, Eli Lema Sabachthani"
which meant to me "My God, My God why have you
abandoned Me", and of a sudden the sky
grew dark and foreboding, and a lull fell over the land,
Enough now had I of ludaea, enough
of cruelty, and of mayhem rife, home-ward
I decided to steer my way, home to my land,
Just on a score of days I traveled
to my home, my family and land,
Now often as I work the fields and plough
I still feel His hand, His Holy hand
upon my shoulder, see His gentle smile
and His voice sweetly, coursing thro' my mind
"You too will sip this cup with Me
to the end of time", and indeed truly blessed I felt.
Now I have heard along the grape vine
that Holy-man was called Jesus by name
and that as His name implies, meaning
a Savant Saviour for all, that and much more He was.
And wonders of wonders they said
He rose from the dead, He never died
Praise God I said, He never died on
That torturous detested stake.
"The Hearkening"
In the woods
a clearing
bare of all leaves
and trees, with exception one
The ground is
borderless,
yet hallowed
dirt and sharp rocks
They call this place,
The Place of the Skull
The woods
disappear in thick mist
A tree stands tall
branches outstretched
devoid of all leaves
Not Dogwood, a tall barren pine
maybe cedar, maybe cypress
no Hollow Hills hanging tree, this,
a titulus affixed
IESVS NAZARENVS REX IVDAEORVM
Footprints, singular
mark the loose soil
at the base of the tree
a blood red crown of flowers
Corona de Cristo
Thorns
There, with patience, He watches
There, with patience, He waits
Torn,
The captive monk
named Cyrene
walks barefoot towards the tree
compelled to bear another story
for He,
he hesitates,
opening himself like a book
he lowers himself to the ground
and supplicates
there is time
"There", is
All of Time,
temporal paradox
there,
He waits
Cyrene,
“The Hearkening”
is in his name
An open book, he supplicates
The other walks forward,
speaks to him softly,
“Here is a story, just for you, for today.
Listen closely to me, for it is in your name.”
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
gvlm/scm
Easter 2019
Luke 23:33
https://youtu.be/pnWWWyxb5kQ
Peter Murphy/"Fake Sparkle or Golden Dust"
NIV
John 19:19
Luke 23:26
John 10:14
He was with God before the world came to be,
and He created with Him our breath-taking Universe;
His name was Jesus,the Redeemer of the Human Race:
and to change and save us was His destiny...
He preached in the Temple, and all Jerusalem listened carefully,
but some didn't like to hear how He spoke against evil so openly;
and they weren't the Romans,the conquerors,
but those hypocrites in high places...
Jesus drew huge crowds by lakes and mountains,
by the country roads and in small towns;
they all came to hear the Gospel with gladness,
and Joseph was one of the priests who heeded those words...
On the lake of Genesaret, Jesus performed another miracle,
telling Peter to lower the net for a catch, but he was skeptical:
until he saw the boat was about to sink with the heavy load,
and he came to realize the bounty of God...
As Jesus became popular and all heard Him preach,
the priests and scribes became jealous of Him,
and planned to capture Him and found Him guilty of blasphemy:
by the very hands of Pontius Pilate who feared to condemn Him...
But the crowd cried out, " Release Barabbas! ",
and those who called out the name, "Jesus,Jesus! "
were beaten and silenced by a mob who had no mercy;
Pontius Pilate had no choice but to deny His liberty...
The Roman soldiers grabbed Jesus
and took Him to governor's place,
and they stripped and whipped Him 'till he bled;
and worst of all : a crown of thorns they put on His head...
Along the Via Dolorosa Jesus carried the cross to His death
as the women wept and men mocked Him with laughs,
never a commotion,so great, was felt in all Jerusalem;
a follower gave Him water, but he was restrained by swords...
The merciless soldiers placed the cross upon Jesus's shoulders,
and Simon from Cyrene finished bearing it behind Jesus;
he really felt the same pain and agony;
and from Jesus's smile, he knew He was relieved...
From the cross at Golgotha, Jesus asked His father
to forgive them as John stood by his mother;
to one of the evildoers He promised Paradise at no cost:
and to all who would believe and follow: redemption by the cross....
I come from Cyrene, my name is Simon ---
Minding my own buisness,
I was forced into labor ---
The soldiers ordered me to assist a condemned man ---
I argued, but the protest fell upon deaf ears ---
So I stated that I, an innocent man,
was being forced to do this deed ---
As I helped this beaten and bloody criminal,
He lost His balance and fell ---
They beat and spat upon Him,
until I cried out for them to stop ---
Finally we arrived at the top of
this lonely and barren hill ---
We dropped the cross upon the ground
and gasped from exhaustion ---
Before the roman soldiers could order me to leave ---
I locked eyes with this convicted man,
who I hesitatingly help ---
His gaze pierced my heart and soul,
which will remain with me forever ---
Walking away from Him, I could hear the
sound of the hammer striking the nails ---
Suddenly I realized this was an innocent Man of God ---
Then silently, within myself I thanked the Lord,
for blessing me with this Holy duty.
They gathered in Jerusalem;
Together, they would pray.
They huddled in the upper room
And waited for the Day.
It happened at the Feast of Weeks,
When Pentecost arrived;
A sound like mighty rushing wind:
The Spirit came alive.
Like fire, it rested on each one:
These men, all humble, meek;
The Spirit gave them utterance,
And they began to speak.
From Phrygia, Pamphylia,
From Egypt and Cyrene:
All were amazed; some were perplexed.
They said, “What does this mean?”
See, some discerned that in their midst
A miracle had sprung,
For though they came from all around,
Each heard in his own tongue.
But others were not ready to
Declare it as divine:
“It seems these rubes from Galilee
Have filled themselves with wine!”
And so, with some, it is today:
The news, with joy, received.
But others just hear foolishness;
Their minds remain deceived.
(from Acts 2)
He was a rugged looking fellow, black hair cropped a little shorter than most under his
dirty skull cap. His hair graying a little at the sideburns of his beard, betraying his unknown
age. No matter how many times he walked these hills Simon was always awed by their
beauty. This occasion coming back from helping his brother's family in the hill country of
Cyrene with their herd of sheep, was no different. It was usually a quiet and peaceful walk,
accompanied by the sounds of nature and the occasional distant sounds of bells tingling from
the necks of wayward sheep.
This time as he neared the city, it was different. There was noise and lots of it. A crowd
of people slowly making their way up a worn dusty trail , disturbing the usual peace with
jeering, crying , cursing and drunken yelling. He could hear it echoing across the rock strewn
hills. This certainly had a feeling of impending doom about it. His curiosity peaking, he
veered his course in that direction and broke his way through the chaos of the crowd to see
what it was all about.
It was as he feared...an execution…Roman style. The man bent in travail under the
heavy cross beam was a bloody mess. They must have really hated this one! It was hard to
imagine what he could have done to deserve this. His clothes were torn and bloody. You
couldn’t see the features of his face because of too much blood oozing from the basket
looking mesh of thorns jabbed into his skull and tangled in his hair.
Apparently this poor culprit couldn’t take it any more and fell.. hard ..into the dust and
rocks of the path with the cross beam pinning him down. Simon was struck dumb with all the
hate and sorrow concentrated here so close to the holy city. He turned quickly in disgust to
leave this man made hell when an armored guard poked the handle of a spear into his ribs
and yelled at him to help the convict! He hurriedly picked up the beam allowing the poor man
to get to his feet and continue with the morbid procession.
----- continued in part 2
The surface is truly strange
a facet full of facade
my heart is singing;
a strange chant...
"the words are unclear like mud water"
sinking the ship of a volatile voyage
in the abyss of loneliness
"don't rule with me" the lily cursed
cursed to live with grisly scales of thorny pinches
preach to me the noble words of soothing pity
they call it prayer
a way of saying "go away but don't be mad"
I have carried a cross without Simon of Cyrene
the appearance is pitiful
because of a misconceived analogy
even the pedagogues have failed
don't cry...
t'is a vision for one
The Bloody Road to Calvary
© Ben Burton 4/11/2019
They scourged this common criminal, the man who would be king
He was a Jew and that alone was reason to demean
In bawdy reverie they whipped Him, calling Him a joke
They cloaked His nakedness and wounds beneath a scarlet robe
A wooden rod would serve as scepter for this beaten rube
Who soon would beg forgiveness, "God, they know not what they do"
At length, a crown of thorns to make the mockery complete
Blood rushed into His eyes, by then His spirit worn and weak
They used the rod to pound the crown more deeply in His scalp
Then, tiring of their terror, they released Him to the crowd
His urgent need for water superseded all the pain
Yet on He walked, with heavy cross, along the dusty lane
Jehovah watched in horror at the treatment of His Son
Knowing if He chose to, Christ could smite the teeming throng
But He had one objective, that the Gospel be fulfilled
He staggered, labored, hard to breathe, until, at last, he kneeled
There, Simon of Cyrene was called upon to bear His load
Though not from sudden kindness, but the process was too slow
All eager and impatient to conclude His life and prove
That He was naught but mortal man, Who never spoke the truth
At length, they made it to the hill with three lives set to end
They nailed sharp spikes in wrist and arm, with passionate intent
The guards then raised the crosses and looked on as Jesus died
Yet, three days hence, His death would bring mankind eternal life
You are a Simon
Of Cyrene; a supporting
Shoulder of crosses
I bear in this testing life;
You, a laborer of love:-
As I recall, it was the second of four years of college in a study for the gospel ministry. It was my World History class that was being taught by a very learned instructor who was also the president of the college.
That particular class day led us to a passage of scripture in the 13th chapter of Acts. As the passage was being read, our instructor had us to pause and give attention to verse one in the text. The chapter recorded the gathering of leaders of the faith with the intention and plan of setting aside and sending out missionaries. In the group were certain prophets and teachers. Noted among the group were four men. Barnabus, Simeon that was called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, and Saul.
Our instructor directed our attention to Simeon that was called Niger. What happened next planted a seed of belonging and trust within me that has served me well throughout my life. He was a large man with a heavy voice, and every fiber of his being beamed with the fragrance of authority. He demanded that no one was to ever in any way use the text about Simeon's race in a derogatory manner. You could have heard a pin fall, and no one as much as asked a question or made a statement, because they knew where the teacher was coming from.
It was a class of white students with one lone black student in the person of myself. On this major subject in the late 60s, our instructor both defined to me and demonstrated an object lesson of what it means to be 'proactive'*. In my own mind, he had spoken volumes and built a proactive dame, holding back any potential floods of prejudice or racism.
070520PS
*tending to initiate change rather than reacting to events; serving to prepare for, intervene in, or control an expected occurrence or situation, especially a negative or difficult one; anticipatory.