Refugee: A sonnet for Epiphany by Malcolm Guite

This sonnet by Malcolm Guite brings a contemporary relevance to Herod’s slaughter of the innocents in the first century.  Click on the link to listen to the poem.

 

Refugee

holy family refugees
The artwork shows the fresco `Flight into Egypt’ (Giotto di Bondone, 1266–1337) and refugees in North Africa. From Franciscans International. http://www.franciscansinternational.org

 

We think of him as safe beneath the steeple,

Or cosy in a crib beside the font,

But he is with a million displaced people

On the long road of weariness and want.

For even as we sing our final carol

His family is up and on that road,

Fleeing the wrath of someone else’s quarrel,

Glancing behind and shouldering their load.

Whilst Herod rages still from his dark tower

Christ clings to Mary, fingers tightly curled,

The lambs are slaughtered by the men of power,

And death squads spread their curse across the world.

But every Herod dies, and comes alone

To stand before the Lamb upon the throne.

The pounding waves

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For me, sitting relaxed in a beach-front café, watching the sun set over the Indian Ocean, the fishing boats setting out for the night present an idyllic scene: life in all its richness, there for all to enjoy.

For the stripped-down men, battling their way against the incessant, pounding waves, the reality is so, so different. Night after night the beat goes on. Every four seconds another wave builds , curves, and crashes down, hungrily sucking up the warm salt tide. On and on, a relentless cycle, heedless of the sultry weather, the oppressive thunder, the tranquil beauty.

Give us this day our daily grind.

Continue reading “The pounding waves”