Simon The Cyrenian Speaks
Countee Cullen
He never spoke a word to me,
And yet He called my name;
He never gave a sign to me,
And yet I knew and came.
At first I said, “I will not bear
His cross upon my back;
He only seeks to place it there
Because my skin is black.”
But He was dying for a dream,
And He was very meek,
And in His eyes there shone a gleam
Men journey far to seek.
It was Himself my pity bought;
I did for Christ alone
What all of Rome could not have wrought
With bruise of lash or stone.
Pray: Psalm 8
When I look at the stars,
the skies,
the heavens…
I think, “Who am I?”
Who am I that You
Creator of the ends of the universe
Notice me?
Think of me?
Care about me?
Who am I?
I am Yours.
Yours.
Yours.
Thank You…
Thank You…
Thank You…
For caring about me.
