Station V: Simon Cyrene

Let the world be crucified
where the light is lost,
far from our eyes.
Let my fear be crucified.
Let my death be crucified.
Because my eyes cannot see
the invisible kingdom;
Because my lips have forgotten
the godsong heartbeat eternal hum;
Because I build my cross
as I walk my path
as I betray my forgotten heart
as I lose the sweet secret room
where godsong prays:
Can we turn back?
Where can we turn back?
Please, Daddy, can we turn back?
Where godsong prays
under starlight
after betrayal
after being abandoned.
Godsong prays for the crucified.
I pray for the crucified
for those about to die
for the dreams I salute.

I am not worthy to bear the beam
because I do not come from Crete;
because I am not Libyan;
because I am not Roman;
I am not worthy to bear the beam
I am not dust from the Ten Cities.
I am less than a chink in the wall
of a ruined temple.
I accept the virtuous beam
let it burn my shoulder
let it incense the secret room
in the forgotten chamber
of my stony heart.
I will bear the beam.
I will watch the sky rend its curtain.
I will hear the Temple cry.
Though I am not worthy
even to speak your name.