Showing posts with label Child. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Child. Show all posts

Monday, 10 November 2014

YOU NEVER SAID


How is a child
Supposed to know

That the truth lies
Somewhere in between

Your scolding emotion
Scalded devotion?

You never said
That it was love

It feels like hate

The too-tight noose
Of your embrace

Sword of tongue
Tasting like captivity

Though you keep promising
Freedom


Wednesday, 26 March 2014

MICAH'S REPROACH



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 Channel4 and an article in the Telegraph)

Sunday, 1 September 2013

Kitchen Prayer


I am a child
In my Grandmother’s
Kitchen

With the evening
Closing in

And we are alone
The two of us

By the open fire

And she handing me
Rice on a red plastic
Plate and I savouring
Its loveliness

The lapping of flames
In turf and the clock ticking

We are not in need
Of words
And do not speak them

I am a child
In my Grandmother’s
Kitchen

Kneeling at her feet
Hands joined and resting
On her lap

Finding God in
The kitchen and the home
Of our lives

And being loved
This is my prayer




Sunday, 2 June 2013

Corpus Christi - A Time Of Innocence

June 10, 2012 

The feast of the Body and Blood of Jesus (Corpus Christi) brings back memories from a distant past of processions and first Holy Communions and innocence.

When Sister Frances was preparing us for our first Communion she said that our souls would be shining bright when we received Jesus and when the day arrived it was this brightness that I was looking out for. I watched the children ahead of me kneeling at the altar rails and I looked at the soles of their shoes to see the brightness shine there, not knowing the difference between soul and sole! 

Of course there was no brightness to be seen but I adjusted to this by saying to myself that there must be something else, another soul. And when my turn to kneel came I closed my eyes, put out my tongue, received Jesus and saw the brightness at the back of my eyelids. It's been normal ever since for me to experience the brightness that comes with Holy Communion.

Sally Read expresses it well for me "The effects of Communion may be well known by those who have received it. But is there really a way to describe the ordering of the heart, the internal embrace that occurs when we actually eat Christ's flesh and blood?...There is no way I know of being closer to God. And there is no more powerful prayer." (Poet Sally Read, Real Presence in THE TABLET 2 JUNE 2012)

Over the past week the Irish Times has run a series on the healing and renewal of the Catholic Church. Two pieces caught my attention. One was the testimony of an 11 year old Lorcan who made his Confirmation this year. He says, "On Sundays I go to Mass with my family. I like going up to Communion. The priest says we all have to look out for each other. I don’t find it hard to understand how the wine becomes blood, because Jesus did that at the Last Supper."

The second piece was an opinion poll which revealed that only 24 percent of Catholics believe in Transubstantiation. If I were asked as a child, if Lorcan were asked, if many believing Catholics were asked, it is doubtful if many would know what Transubstantiation is but we understand at some level of our being that we receive Jesus in Holy Communion.

It takes a child to understand the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, as Jesus himself said "I thank you Father, Lord of heaven and of earth for hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children..." and "unless you repent and become like a little child you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven."

The uncluttered, simple soul of the child has a way of knowing that transcends the ordinary intellectual way of knowing that we tend to develop as adults and if we are to connect with the mystery of Jesus in the eucharist then we need to connect with the child within us who does understand. If there is to be renewal in the Church then we have to make this connection with our own child and with Jesus.

Trust is central to this experience of faith. Lorcan trusts what Jesus did at the Last Supper, so he has no problem accepting that the wine becomes blood. I believe in the Eucharist because I trust Jesus completely. I accept that, as God, he can do all things and when he says "this is my body" I accept. This is what I receive.

There is something else in Lorcan's testimony that is simply expressed, a sentence in the middle of what he says about Mass and Communion - "...we all have to look out for each other." And that too is central to the mystery of the Eucharist, the reality of Christ Jesus living in us.

We can receive out of habit, not knowing what is really taking place. It would be good for us to come to communion deliberately and afterwards close our eyes and experience the brightness of Jesus within, a brightness to be taken with us as we go on our way and in all our relationships.

Thursday, 1 November 2012

Return














I will return
To the dust
Of the dry season

Kicked up in the air
By grazing herds
And playful children

Delighted

With open eyes
Wide smiles

Voices that tickle
The heart
With laughter

To the river
That refuses
To give up its
Waters to drought

The trees that thrive
And those that
Simply survive

And the scent
Of jasmine
In the air of night

And the stars
Of the dark sky

That reach to the touch
Of the gentle and the humble

Wednesday, 1 August 2012

Condotti Child

They have names
For him and opinions
About him

Disapproving

He expects no more
Than the unwanted change
Of our excess

A cigarette to quell
The madness of addiction

Surprised that he is loved
The more in deprivation

A child of God
His song finds a hearing
In Heaven and in me

A voice deeply lived in
Beyond his years

May he be blessed
More deeply still
As I in him am blessed

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


+++

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


Monday, 11 June 2012

Corpus Christi - A Time Of Innocence


June 10, 2012

The feast of the Body and Blood of Jesus (Corpus Christi) brings back memories from a distant past of processions and first Holy Communions and innocence.

When Sister Frances was preparing us for our first Communion she said that our souls would be shining bright when we received Jesus and when the day arrived it was this brightness that I was looking out for. I watched the children ahead of me kneeling at the altar rails and I looked at the soles of their shoes to see the brightness shine there, not knowing the difference between soul and sole! 

Of course there was no brightness to be seen but I adjusted to this by saying to myself that there must be something else, another soul. And when my turn to kneel came I closed my eyes, put out my tongue, received Jesus and saw the brightness at the back of my eyelids. It's been normal ever since for me to experience the brightness that comes with Holy Communion.

Sally Read expresses it well for me "The effects of Communion may be well known by those who have received it. But is there really a way to describe the ordering of the heart, the internal embrace that occurs when we actually eat Christ's flesh and blood?...There is no way I know of being closer to God. And there is no more powerful prayer." (Poet Sally Read, Real Presence in THE TABLET 2 JUNE 2012)

Over the past week the Irish Times has run a series on the healing and renewal of the Catholic Church. Two pieces caught my attention. One was the testimony of an 11 year old Lorcan who made his Confirmation this year. He says, "On Sundays I go to Mass with my family. I like going up to Communion. The priest says we all have to look out for each other. I don’t find it hard to understand how the wine becomes blood, because Jesus did that at the Last Supper."

The second piece was an opinion poll which revealed that only 24 percent of Catholics believe in Transubstantiation. If I were asked as a child, if Lorcan were asked, if many believing Catholics were asked, it is doubtful if many would know what Transubstantiation is but we understand at some level of our being that we receive Jesus in Holy Communion.

It takes a child to understand the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, as Jesus himself said "I thank you Father, Lord of heaven and of earth for hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children..." and "unless you repent and become like a little child you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven."

The uncluttered, simple soul of the child has a way of knowing that transcends the ordinary intellectual way of knowing that we tend to develop as adults and if we are to connect with the mystery of Jesus in the eucharist then we need to connect with the child within us who does understand. If there is to be renewal in the Church then we have to make this connection with our own child and with Jesus.

Trust is central to this experience of faith. Lorcan trusts what Jesus did at the Last Supper, so he has no problem accepting that the wine becomes blood. I believe in the Eucharist because I trust Jesus completely. I accept that, as God, he can do all things and when he says "this is my body" I accept. This is what I receive.

There is something else in Lorcan's testimony that is simply expressed, a sentence in the middle of what he says about Mass and Communion - "...we all have to look out for each other." And that too is central to the mystery of the Eucharist, the reality of Christ Jesus living in us.

We can receive out of habit, not knowing what is really taking place. It would be good for us to come to communion deliberately and afterwards close our eyes and experience the brightness of Jesus within, a brightness to be taken with us as we go on our way and in all our relationships.