Centurion
11 April, 2003
Author: Mark Spencer
The throngs gather at Golgotha,
To be witness to His end.
Though in the crowd I cannot see,
The twelve who called Him friend.
As for me, I don’t understand,
Why this had to come to pass.
Why they asked to have Him crucified,
And why so many now amass.
They cheer at His destruction,
As the anger builds in me.
I wish that I could draw my sword,
In the name of decency.
And wade into their numbers,
Perhaps then they’d show respect.
But I am a Centurion,
My duty, I can’t neglect.
So I must simply stand here,
And try to keep the peace.
Though I have not but loathing,
For these people I police.
That man who hangs upon the cross,
Was kind when I was in need.
He healed a beloved servant,
And asked nothing for that deed.
And now I must bear witness,
To this Nazarene’s demise.
Trying not to lose composure,
At the moment when he dies.
And if He is the Son of God,
I hope He can forgive.
The part I played in all of this,
With which I now must live.
But in my heart I hold the hope,
That He will indeed be raised.
And I will return to this place,
To see Him in three days.
I’m a soldier of the empire,
How could one like me receive,
Salvation from the carpenter,
In whom I now believe?
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Comments on this poem/writing:
Justus Isaiah Richardson (198.81.26.78) -- Sunday, May 18 2003, 03:18 am Great Poem Rev.! |
Mark Spencer (198.81.26.78) -- Thursday, May 22 2003, 07:50 am Years ago I went through a regression with a local hypno-therapist. This was the result of that regression. Whether it was real or the product of an overactive imagination, I can't say. I can, however, say that the memory of that experience is clearer than memories of actual events in my life. It was one of the experiences that lead me to God. Mark |
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