The man on the Cross
Looks down
He seems to look at me
And past me
He is a black man
And he knows in his Soul
That I failed him
Yes I saw him
On the Road
And I did not reach out
Was it fear?
Was it prejudice?
Was it my inability to see
That the man with me
On the road
Was Christ, my brother
He looked at me
But I did not see.
In the lateness of today
I see.
Paul O’Brien
A member of your retreat: February 27th
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