Seventh Station Jesus carries the cross Mark 15: 20 Laughing, they spit into his face; as now, their sport is over, he can submit to his disgrace. His pain, now a rising red flush, sends shocks through his body; his blood – so much gone in a rush. They bring to him the heavy beam: the crossbar he will carry to Calvary; across his back, his hands bound tight, on the black wood – soaked in blood; as this thing has seen use before; for other men, to deaths obscene. He flexes tired muscles, takes the weight; his fingers find the holes in the wood, where flesh had been nailed in gore. Pushed to where two other prisoners wait; doors open, bright light, a spear jab: together they start upon the sorrowful way.