Stations of the Cross

Wayfarers on our very own via dolorosa
Down the pedestrianised High Street
Relentlessly progressing to the end;
Watched by a crowd, but struggling alone
This way and that, from pillar to post,
Stumbling under a death sentence,
Sweat glands empty, collapsing with exhaustion,
While one of the women wipes blood from a brow,
A stranger from Africa, legally here,
Comes alongside, lending a hand,

So we make it – the pilgrimage complete,
Fulfilling a purpose defined in heaven,
Remembering his journey, sharing his suffering,
Renewed in mind, but back with the crowd, .

The Week of Missional Prayer, Bromley
November 2013