Waylaid

A passer-by

Intent on arrival

Head down and full of plans

You are waylaid by the momentum

Of the crowd as it moves outside

To a hill

On the edge of the city

In pursuit of a bloody spectacle.

A man —

Cross bar cutting into scarred shoulders

Stumbles, falls at your feet as though pleading.

You are waylaid by the command

To carry his cross, your cross,

To the hill

On the edge of the city

In pursuit of an execution.

A change

Of intent, perhaps,

As, head up and eyes locked

You are waylaid by Love.

Plans cast asunder, witness

On the hill

On the edge of the city

To this death in pursuit of life.

A father —

Returning to tell

Of what has passed as,

Waylaid, your story woven in to His,

You are no longer the outsider

The passer-by on the hill

The Cyrenian on the edge of the city

But a witness in pursuit of a Saviour.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash