The Look

In light of recent events here in Canada, I remember a little verse I wrote as a young child:

Listen to the cheerful cry
Of the wolf when he's being sly
But when PEACE comes round the door
You will hear his cry no more.

Even though our teacher, a Sister of Charity wanted more, this seemed to sum it up for me at that time.

Today, it is hard to know who the wolf is but I certainly recognize the wolf within and persistently work to put love first and so tame him. (Please Brother Wolf, excuse the use of your name in this context.)

With that in mind and heart, please let me share a poem with you that I wrote on October 10, 2013 called "The Look", opposite.

Let God work through us for peace in our world!

I pray for all of us
living with a variety of emotions
and ask God to please guide us all
in our thoughts, words and actions
so that we Centre on Love
as Jesus showed us,
as our seraphic father, St. Francis did
and as we can;
so that we believe that those who have lost their lives are resting in peace;
that our political leaders seek to understand
the root causes and motivations
of those who hurt their fellow beings
and help them belong;
that those responsible for news
remember their duty to their readers
and uphold their journalism oath;
and that those who live in darkness and hopelessness
find love and belonging
in our world, today.

Amen.

Sr. Martina, s.f.o., St. Patrick's Fraternity, Montreal

The Look

We passed each other on a retail-busy street
Our eyes locked
But only to see the dark chasm
Separating us

You’ve got THE LOOK!
The look that strikes the fear of the hangman
Wearing his black hood of anonymity
Before he lowers the noose
And releases the trapdoor

I’ve got THE LOOK!
The look that strikes the fear of the Ku Klux Klan
Sporting its white gown of secrecy
Before it burns the homestead
And terrorizes the victims

I stole a sidelong glance
I noticed your black Niqab
I saw nothing but the sombre eye-slit

I could not veil MY LOOK
Scorn, disdain, contempt collided
And robbed you yet again
Condemning without knowing
Convicted identity

Your eyes are windows to your soul
You read my instinctive look
Like a well-known book
Spearing your heart
With a smack in the face
Your dark eyes, unimpressed
Undressed MY LOOK
A tear glimmered
Smudging the kohl
Beneath your eyelashes

My eyes are mirrors of heartlessness
How can we suppose
To impose
Dress codes
As terms of admission?

I challenge myself
To some naval gazing
Historical and personal
To unveil the awful power
Of THE LOOK

I should have known better
I do
I regret
I remember
I resolve to do better
To overpower
THE LOOK

I see that clothes don’t make us
Human
I’ve got to LOOK
You in the eye
With eyes seeing
Engage
With ears listening
And with you
Being
Or we are doomed
To our farcical divide
And ignorance
Reigns supreme.

© Martina Branagan