This poem is a product of imagination and contemplation regarding the scene of the Crucifixion.  John 16:32 records that many of Jesus’ followers “scattered”, leaving Jesus alone.  But there were “crowds, viewing the spectacle” of the crucifixion–some people expressing “mourning or repentance, as they left” (Luke 23:48). 

I suspect some were among those who’d been mocking Him with verbal cruelty; they weren’t mournful or repentant, and were not affected by the horror–I’ve put them in this poem.

And each year I find it painfully easy to “see” myself at the scene.  I’d like to think I would have been one of the women who were helpful to Jesus.  Matthew 27:55 mentions there were “many women looking on from a distance, who’d followed Jesus from Galilee to minister to Him”.  And John 19:25 states that “standing by the cross” were His mother and 3 other women.

I don’t know how close “distant” might be, but there was a group of women who just had to be there; they loved Jesus and were respectfully loved by Him, and nothing would keep them away–no matter how distressing the event would likely be.  I don’t believe they were stoic, stiff-upper-lip gals…I think the whole lot of us would have been devastated, wrecked.

If I’d been there perhaps I would have made observations, overheard conversations:

The night was longer…

darker… after He died…

the silence, suffocating

heaviness reverberating

in sweat-soaked air

once the loud mocking crowd

had wandered from the scene

thinking it was over, the drama…

Jesus, the Nazarene

promised Messiah

all the craziness, confusion

complete chaos which some

thought He’d brought on Himself–

was He a king, or not?  were His

followers ordinary losers

who’d jumped on a bandwagon

doomed to self-destruct?

“He was a teacher, gifted speaker

and yes, some strange wondrous

‘miracles’ had happened

at His touch…but what now?”

The women were a wreck

most still sobbing, unable

to stand, walk away from

the bloody cross that

seemed to shudder…

Maybe his B-team

headed toward a local tavern

to drink their deep sorrow

 soothe doubting questions 

which itched beneath the skin…

what were they going to do next–

was there even a Next to contemplate?

The night went on…darker…longer…

their very souls dragged in the dust…

~ Cale