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 |
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