I Am Said I (Huruma)

The span Of those who are strong Is eighty Years moulded by Love Laboured Wrestled Wrested From the dark nourished soil Of Genesis Made precious She has conceived Borne Birthed Bred the child Nursed Nurtured New clothed Out of old discardings Garden dug Potatoes planted Food upon the table And when the time For flying came She let the children go To strain and yearn With life’s deep Longing unsatisfied She is honoured in them Hungering And most a mother In overlooking fault Standing staunch Until the prodigal Is retrieved

This Is The Way, Walk In It ‘Though the Lord gave you adversity for food and suffering for drink, he will still be with you to teach you. You will see your teacher with your own eyes. Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it." ‘ (Isaiah 30:21-22) +++ I have spent a lifetime living under the influence of the opinions of others - their wishes, desires, expectations. It’s part of normal living and loving that we seek to please and accommodate others, often giving way to their opinion about how we should live and behave. Sometimes we get an opportunity to live completely under the influence of the Holy Spirit without surrendering to what others think. This has happened twice in my life. The first was when I met the Pallottines at the age of 17. I knew immediately that I had found my home with them and I was quietly determined that nothing was going to stop me going there. The...

In her left arm A baby rests Silent In front of the Blessed Sacrament In her right hand The flimsy pages Of a Bible Blow back and forth Under the force Of an electric fan Relieving the humid Hot air The child reaches up To touch her face The mother smiles And God is pleased

I gaze on what the human eye Should never behold Repelled Appalled and Compelled Not to turn away Sweet suffering silent Child without a name Fallen fully formed on cold Concrete Hole in your head gaping Still red and turning Black Placenta wrapped around Your legs and beautiful feet protruding Umbilical disconnected Binding your body It is your right hand Clasped against your horrified mouth That eloquently speaks And I am too polite Too full of compassion For the woman To reveal you To one person and a world That does not want to know That never wants to face Present crimes Preferring outrage over Holocausts long past Hundreds, thousands, millions Of you incinerated "With rest of today's waste" Is what they said And my mind returns Will always return To your one tiny hand Covering your mouth Protesting prophecies We refuse to hear My people what have I done to you? How have I offended you? Answer me! (Based on a photograph, Micah 6:3,  Amanda Holden's Dispatches...

He lay there basking Content and nicely proud Wandering back in time A dreamer dreaming Alone on a beach Waiting for the tide to come The tracks of his feet behind And before him The quiet sea seemed not To move But it stole steadily stroking The sand Lapping about his feet Surprising him from sleep To a waking moment Waiting for us to come. “It would want to be soon” He said and sounded Strong Like calm clear water Swelling Surging Suddenly sweeping him Away In the silence of the night. And when the tide subsided There was nothing left of him But his remains Arched backwards Like Jesus shocked Upon the Cross “Into your hands O Lord I commend my spirit” For the last time.

I gaze on what the human eye Should never behold Repelled Appalled and Compelled Not to turn away Sweet suffering silent Child without a name Fallen fully formed on cold Concrete Hole in your head gaping Still red and turning Black Placenta wrapped around Your legs and beautiful feet protruding Umbilical disconnected Binding your body It is your right hand Clasped against your horrified mouth That eloquently speaks And I am too polite Too full of compassion For the woman To reveal you To one person and a world That does not want to know That never wants to face Present crimes Preferring outrage over Holocausts long past Hundreds, thousands, millions Of you incinerated "With rest of today's waste" Is what they said And my mind returns Will always return To your one tiny hand Covering your mouth Protesting prophecies We refuse to hear My people what have I done to you? How have I offended you? Answer me! (Based on a photograph, Micah 6:3, Amanda Holden's Dispatches on C...