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Poem: “Seventh Station”

by on Mar 11, 2013 in Poetry
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Seventh Station
Good Friday

I can see Him now, coming up this way,
Murmuring words no man can say.
Worming his way along the path,
He trusted all, all for their worth
Broken, bleeding, he heard their pleading
A mother in love, a Father above,
Spittle flying, Love is dying.
I hear crying.
O My Lord.
See Him bearing, loving, sharing,
Falling, stalling, sighing, rising.

Matthew B. Rose


Matthew B. Rose received his BA (History and Literature) and MA (Systematic Theology) from Christendom College.  He teaches  middle-schoolers history and English in a large Catholic parish school.  Matthew also runs a Catholic Q & A  blog (quidquidestest.wordpress.com) and a random, more personal blog (http://freakingawesomeblog.blogspot.com).