Word in the Hand

and a sword will pierce your own soul too   Gathered into my arms As bloody and helpless as the first day. The warmth of your mortality leaching away Into the ungrateful earth. I glean my treasure trove from all that remains. The smell of skin, a childhood scar, Calloused hands, Earnest dark eyes Fading now. Rememberings Of your cheek against my breast, Arms around my neck, hands entwined in hair. Not this remnant of humanity But my heart’s pride, My Son. wordinthehand2010

Opening Prayer Here I am Lord, Listening Speak to me within my heart and soul. I am listening. Luke 2:34 ‘The pain of a sword-thrust through you.’ Reflection I know the image you have of me; young and beautiful, the contentment of motherhood showing on my face. My arms held wide in the openhearted gesture of a mother to all those who have been given to me. In the beginning, only he was given to me; he was the ‘Yes’ of my life, my heart and my soul. The ethereal otherness of him was wrapped in prophecy, his baby eyes were wide with the guileless love that my gaze returned. Our future lives were given into God’s care, to His Will. At the Temple I wore the simple veil of a proud, young mother, knowing that, despite the gossips, my child had every right to this moment, this presentation into his Father’s hands; confident that he would receive His blessing as I had been blessed. That Love was ours. Then Simeon’s words; the veil lifted to reveal an unwelcome truth – A reminder that love i...