Deserted

The woman walks in a bleak landscape of monotone colors.
With child,she crosses this rough terrain
without a Joseph to protect or a donkey to carry her.
No inn nor stable is here.No cattle nor sheep
nothing alive.
Now she feels her labor pains coming;
Lies down amongst the rocks to wait
Here is an anonymous,faceless figure.
Pronounces himself a doctor.
She labors; he picks up her son.No Messiah nor Oedipus;
Without speaking,he conveys to her,this child  is dead.
Not ever held in the arms of hie mother
Nor father either.
He’s tossed, light as a few feathers,
light almost as a bird
onto a pile of bodies nearby.
Whose unwanted children are these:?
Still lying flat she observes her child
one of many there.
Days pass and strength returns.
Stands now and walks over to say,Farewell.
The child opens his eyes
Mother,they say,mother.
Holds him and presses him into herself for warmth…
Which way to go and when?
No signs, no maps…
Is there a right way?
Is there a guide?
Why was she journeying this way?
She remembers nothing
She has lost almost everything ….
Steps forward..and walks on.
What other choice is there?

Riding pillion

The curate’s motorbike

Come here,Kathryn,come here quick,

‘Cos your Daddy’s really sick.

Run as fast as fast, you can,

Get the priest, get Father Dan.

Run,run went my eight year old feet,

Down the lane and up the street

I ran right up to Father’s door,

[Does God live there any more?]

“Come please, Mam said Daddy’s ill”

“Oh”,said Father,”that I will.”

Revving up his motor bike

With The Sacrament beside.

He lifted me up onto the back

And roared off up the church side track.

It was the best thrill of my life

If only Daddy had not died.