A hero of peace flew away –
one who saw treasure beneath imperfection
to reveal God’s reincarnation in each conception.
A hero of peace flew away, but not quickly.
Not before planting two blossoms on The Farm, which multiplied into a bouquet of thousands. They’ve perfumed France, indeed the world, for over fifty years.
Their scent intensifies still.
A hero of peace flew away.
Look at this temple that soars to the sky
Now look a bit closer — do you see why?
The bright colours that adorn such lofty towers
Are fragments of glass no bigger than flowers
Once beautiful china, they were dumped in the sea
As worthless and broken, nothing to see
My God, let me eat you
Let me drink you in
You’re in the air
You’re in the wind
You’re in the sun
You’re in the trees
Holy communion is all around me
Praying in the beauty of Prince Edward County, Ontario.
Today I am gifted with deep peace. It’s centered deep, low in my body, in my womb. It’s birthing strength to face new challenges and forget past fears. It stills my mind; my body is tranquil. May I carry this peace all day and into tomorrow.
“You know that woman who came by herself?” said the vinegar craftsman to the server.
“You mean me?” I asked, revealing my presence, losing the chance to hear the next sentence.
Would it be that I was still there, hours later, sated with vinegar, recipes and stories?
Was it the story I told the young woman who made my pizza, of my travels seeking stories that bring peace? Her great aunt couldn’t marry a Catholic, not because of faith, but because of politics. Her cousin just married a Catholic, a sign of growing peace in Ireland.
I love my prayer corner.
Bring me here
Meet me here
Teach me here
Change me here
I love my prayer corner.
I met a man who came from away
With no friends, no money, no English
Everything against him
But he was proud
He had two hands, he wanted to work
Not accept help
This man went to Toronto and almost starved
Before he found somewhere to eat and sleep
This man has two degrees, he’s a priest, he risked his life defending human rights
He can’t go to law school because his war-torn country can’t send his degrees
How ludicrous
He could teach the truth that children should not be used as soldiers
That people who defend children should not get shot
Trees and paths
Leaves and needles
I collect burrs like badges on two wheels
Three million neighbours and no one knows I’m here
except the squirrel ignoring me in the twilight
Night falls
I climb
up hills which hid the ravine
Gentle drops and warm wind, slough off the day’s cares
as I race the downpour to my door
What would I give up so the world didn’t cry?
All mistakes to prevent regret?
Then we’d have to always know the right choice.
Would I sacrifice curiousity for omniscience,
The fun of learning for all wisdom?
The chance of rejection for guaranteed love?
Would an effortless love be worth anything?
Freedom and individuality for automatons who can’t do evil?
The need for heroes, by preventing all suffering?
Love, so there would be no loss?
The ability to choose not to love?
The ability to choose?
I don’t want our kids to meet at encounter groups, to learn to empathise with the “other”
I don’t want them to hear of the Holocaust, to learn how our homelands became our graves
I don’t want them to talk about the Nakba, the right of return, and how long it takes
I don’t want to fear that in my nascent country, we risk annihilation again
I don’t want to fear that in my exile, we risk losing the chance for a homeland
