Simon the Cyrenian Speaks

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.
~Countee Cullen