FOR THE LAST DROP OF BLOOD (Syrophonecian)

(In honour of Mother and Father)

I want to feel 

The heart of the Mother

The flesh-pang of the Father 

All dependent

She throws herself

In front of a car

To save the life

He holds a hospital hostage

That the child can be treated

And live

It is instinct

Not reason

That will do anything

To spare the fruit

Of loins and womb

Such love

Does not pause

To think things through

Only they know

How to pray

With such desperation

To take God on

At the coalface

Fighting to the last

Drop of sweat

For the last

Drop of blood

For life they wrestle

With Life

Demanding

A blessing and a declaration

No matter what

The injury to self

It is the only prayer

Worth praying

The only worthwhile way

In it they are most

Like God

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Jesus left Gennesaret and withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. Then out came a Canaanite woman from that district and started shouting, ‘Sir, Son of David, take pity on me. My daughter is tormented by a devil.’ But he answered her not a word. And his disciples went and pleaded with him. ‘Give her what she wants,’ they said ‘because she is shouting after us.’ He said in reply, ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.’ But the woman had come up and was kneeling at his feet. ‘Lord,’ she said ‘help me.’ He replied, ‘It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the house-dogs.’ She retorted, ‘Ah yes, sir; but even house-dogs can eat the scraps that fall from their master’s table.’ Then Jesus answered her, ‘Woman, you have great faith. Let your wish be granted.’ And from that moment her daughter was well again.

Matthew 15:21-28