At the motel in Cana
The man that I met late that night
signed in with me
writing Jesus with a Big J
And Christ with a small c
Seeing our fatigue the night porter offered tea
Wearily he smiled as the night clock struck three
Christ of small c
Asked, turning to me
Would you care for a beer possibly?
So drinking together we saw in the dawn
And solved the worlds problems
Before softly heading on.
Six months later and I'm back in town
It's approaching noon and I see him again
A sadder sight, as he stumbled and fell
Under the weight of a cross by the midday bell
Weak from his wounds he once slumped to the ground
His eyes fixed on the path,
making hardly a sound
Our eyes met in a glance as he rose to his feet
It seemed then as now he said 'no' to defeat
When weeks later folks spoke of rising,
The image I found more surprising
Of a man who fell thrice,
And thrice rose again.
The victory of spirit, rejecting defeat
He got to his knees by the side of the street,
'It's Simon'I said as I offered my hand
'To rise once my dear friend
is a feat but twice
and repeat Is rising indeed'.
Some point to a Sunday
And an empty tomb
For me it's the Friday
And the hill that looms
Against an angry sky
It makes me ask 'why'?
Some have waited two long days
They're grieving for my friend
But Never thinking it the end
Happy to meet and greet
When after badly falling
I get back on my feet.