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Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #2165913
This piece was turned into beautiful song by another fellow prisoner who shared the faith
On the Saturday afternoon, we gathered at the door.

The air was moderately warm, for what lay in store.

Father McCrystal led the way, to the first and foremost station.

It’s amazing all the stories of those, who were in this situation.



Dromantine House, is cleverly and poignantly situated.

The building and the lake, supreme, leaves one feeling quite sedated.

Young people, who are keen to be fit, were jogging round the lake.

We wandered on past them regardless, the pilgrimage to make.



Being lead along by these two men was stimulant in my mind.

Following Jesus’ last few hours, a journey, one of a kind.

We sang and prayed between each one, having time for contemplation.

At the top of the hill, I was sad to know, we’d reached the very last station.



The one where Jesus was laid, bare inside the tomb.

Mary followed him all the way, as she knew him from the womb.

The 15th station which doesn’t exist, is the resurrection,

That Christ we know is alive today, giving us direction.



A lot of thought was provoked that day, as we all mingled together.

Acquaintances made and kept, friendships stronger than ever.

Each person there is a human being, with their life to implement.

I’ll see some of them at Christmas, in the period of Advent.


14-3-17
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2165913-Stations-of-The-Cross