The tool of the seamstress… the tailor,
has no conscience, no realization of: whom
it pricks, the duration or the depth of the wound.
No power drunk King or the dogs at his feet
linger over the occurrence… and consciousness
becomes no factor when issues so trivial are
brought into public play, the words disregarded.
Whom then is this individual, this collective group
to welcome the thankless ones to their land… and
see those seeking peace to ballyhoo and belly ache
about cultural traditions of their host… the Saxons?
What happened to breathing a sigh of relief, when
relief was offered, and the feelings of being grateful
for not having been killed by their own (radicalized)
people of peace- the ‘headlines’ now left smudged?
Books can be folded but the words, ideas, will never
be erased… never be squandered by latent ruthlessness
or spindled and mangled by openness expressed as
support and slighted by bias, tasting less of raisins.
The drain consumes what sympathy existed yesterday…
the sink will be scrubbed and cleaned to use tomorrow,
and life will go on when choice is fresh to the mind of care.
How rich are we to become… when the gift of life is given us by grace. Knowing we have had our debt to sin paid (something we could never do on our own) by The only one who could (God Himself… the Word made flesh and the perfect sacrifice) and we are to be ‘thankful.’ The riches of heaven (found by the faithful) are what value this life cannot steal or rob, and moth cannot destroy. Transmutation does happen in this life… just look to the Moth and the Butterfly for proof- one of the daylight and one of the night. Which do you favor… light or night- in the light of day growth occurs and the importance of life is made plain!
Image is found here.