I am a ghost man, shelled like a pea pod
By the very unkindness of my God,
who leading me a merry dance of years-
does not alleviate, but accentuates my fears.
I have served in sacred words and rhyme,
The praises of this Lord through time.
Up and down the minutes, and the days-
And still God demands more of me, always
That still small voice, bah what is this?
When old age shows the foolishness
Of pious claptrap, too much 'Word',
Prayers unanswered, prayer unheard?
Silence for me means little else-
Except-the noisy pulse of tinnitus.
Aches and pains make kneeling wrong,
I am wearied now, no longer strong.
Yet I would not trade this lot I bear
For any miracle of healing, where-
All would be well: No, my eyes saw
Salvations child and heavens door!
That was enough: For in my hands I blessed
The Creator come to us en-fleshed!
I knew then, that though I am the least,
I'm welcomed home to heaven's feast.
Straight into Mary's arms-I let the baby go!
At last, at peace, salvation now I know,
For my eyes have seen what Moses saw,
burning bush and God of Love, completed Law!
My eyes are dim, my life span truly run,
With Anna all my days, as hers are done!
Our friendships, yearnings, hopes burnt bright-
True glimpses of this Christ-our-light!
We Need Your Support
ICN aims to provide speedy and accurate news coverage of all subjects of interest to Catholics and the wider Christian community. As our audience increases - so do our costs. We need your help to continue this work.
Please support our journalism by donating today.Donate