Poetry Sunday

As the horror of yet another mass murder of children recedes into the past, buried under the useless detritus of empty thoughts and prayers and the sad heaps of makeshift memorials, it's worth remembering that childhood used to be a safe and wondrous place. Of course, that was before we decided as a nation that the right to pack unlimited iron was more important than the lives and safety of our children, that the right to bear arms was more important than the right to life of the children already born and learning the lessons that will prepare them to face the challenges of adult life.

This poem from Faith Shearin brings back the memory of a simple moment of childhood.

Blessing of the Animals 

by Faith Shearin 

At my daughter’s Catholic school there is

a blessing of the animals at which

the children line up with their fat hamsters

and gauzy goldfish, their dogs so old

they can barely climb the hill. They bring

their cats with bald patches

and their lizards sleeping in cages

under a fake sun. In the line

to the priest there are snakes

with white eyes and birds without songs.

There are ant farms and worms and rats

with long, exposed tails. The children

wait hours for their animals

to be blessed: for the priest’s hand

to hover over the weight they carry.

They bring shoe boxes full of turtles,

hairy spiders, frogs with dry skin.

I like watching my daughter

among the other children: her dog

small in her arms, her gaze protective.

Children believe in the power

of animals, tucked into their feathers

and shells; they believe

in blessings: the sprinkle

of holy water, each tiny

unexplained life.

Have a good day. Think hard about what's more important - fancy guns or the lives of the children whose coffins, rather than whose animals, are too often blessed in these awful times.

More thoughts coming. 

Bilbo