Beforeword: This is the Easter season, when Christians remember the life, sacrifice, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The story does not begin at the cross. It begins with a humble birth and unfolds through a life spent teaching, healing, and showing the world another way to love.

This poem traces that journey—from cradle to cross—and the path that led to the hill called Calvary. It is the poetic-story of the man on the middle cross.

Born to a humble girl named Mary
And raised by the carpenter Joseph
Laid in a manger in Bethlehem
A cradle made from straw instead of gold

A child who puzzled scholars in the temple
Speaking truth beyond his years
While elders listened in quiet amazement
To the wisdom of a boy

He walked dusty roads telling simple stories
Seeds, vineyards, lamps, lost coins
Turning everyday life into lessons
On mercy, faith, and the kingdom of heaven

He sat with fishermen and tax collectors
Touched lepers others feared to see
He called the poor and the broken “blessed”
And made the last feel first

He opened blinded eyes and lifted bent backs
Spoke peace to storms and demons alike
Where despair had taken root
Hope began to breathe again

He overturned tables in sacred halls
Questioned the pride of priests and rulers
Teaching that love of neighbor
Was greater than ritual or rank

And there he hung between two thieves
On a hill called Calvary
The man who healed the world now wounded
The One on the middle cross

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In creative solidarity, Dee