Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit

Did you ever understand this?

If my spirit was poor, how could I enter heaven?
Was I depressed?
Understanding editing,
I see how a comma, removed or inserted
with careful plan,
can change everything.
I was reminded of this
when a poor young man
in Tunisia
desperate to live
and humiliated for trying
set himself ablaze;
I felt uncomfortably warm
as if scalded by his shame.
I do not have to sell vegetables from a cart as he did
or live in narrow rooms too small for spacious thought;
and, at this late date,
I do not worry that someone will
remove every single opportunity
for me to thrive.
Still, I am connected to, inseparable from,
this young man.
Blessed are the poor, in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Jesus. (Commas restored) .
Jesus was as usual talking about solidarity: about how we join with others
and, in spirit, feel the world, and suffering, the same as them.
This is the kingdom of owning the other as self, the self as other;
that transforms grief into
peace and delight.
I, and you, might enter the heaven
of right here
through this door.
In this spirit, knowing we are blessed,
we might remain poor.

--Alice Walker (1944- ) African American novelist, poet, and activist.

This poem refers to the story of Mohammed Bouazizi, who on December 17, 2010 set himself on fire in response to constant government harassment, and act of protest that helped spark the Arab Spring.

Scripture Reference: Matthew 5:1-12

what they did yesterday afternoon

they set my aunts house on fire

i cried the way women on tv do
folding at the middle
like a five pound note.
i called the boy who use to love me
tried to ‘okay’ my voice
i said hello
he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened?

i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
dear god
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.

later that night

i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.


--Warsan Shire (1988- ), Somali-British poet, first Young Poet Laureate of London, lyricist and collaborator with Beyonce Knowles-Carter

Image: Fallen Caryatid with Stone, Auguste Rodin, from the Musee Rodin in Paris

Lord's Prayer Cycle Prayer 5: As We Forgive Those Who Have Sinned Against Us

Our Father in heaven, 
loving Parent and Creator, 
tender Mother, 
strengthen us and soften our hearts,
for You call us to forgive others as much as You forgive us. 

Help us let go of anger and resentment 
when we have been wronged, 
and nurture understanding 
in place of feeding the weeds of rage. 
Help us to understand 
that all are wounded and in need of healing, 
including ourselves. 
Help us to lower our defenses 
and not impugn the motives of those we love, 
and remember they love us. 
Help us to judge only as harshly 
as we ourselves wish to be judged, 
and no more. 

For You are our loving God, 
and You forgive us repeatedly when we fail You. 
Teach us that in bearing grudges 
we grip a weight that will sink us, 
and when harboring anger 
we risk loss in a sea of recrimination. 

Let us embrace those who seek our pardon, 
and repair mutual injury 
with the balm of Love that never fails. 
O Loving One, hear our prayers 
and grant your benediction and grace 
to those whose needs we now raise before You.

Amen.



Image from Medium.com

Home

no one leaves home unless

home is the mouth of a shark

you only run for the border

when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbours running faster than you

breath bloody in their throats

the boy you went to school with

who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory

is holding a gun bigger than his body

you only leave home

when home won't let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you

fire under feet

hot blood in your belly

it's not something you ever thought of doing

until the blade burnt threats into

your neck

and even then you carried the anthem under

your breath

only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets

sobbing as each mouthful of paper

made it clear that you wouldn't be going back.

you have to understand,

that no one puts their children in a boat

unless the water is safer than the land

no one burns their palms

under trains

beneath carriages

no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck

feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled

means something more than journey.

no one crawls under fences

no one wants to be beaten

pitied

no one chooses refugee camps

or strip searches where your

body is left aching

or prison,

because prison is safer

than a city of fire

and one prison guard

in the night

is better than a truckload

of men who look like your father

no one could take it

no one could stomach it

no one skin would be tough enough

the

go home blacks

refugees

dirty immigrants

asylum seekers sucking our country dry

niggers with their hands out

they smell strange

savage

messed up their country and now they want

to mess ours up

how do the words

the dirty looks

roll off your backs

maybe because the blow is softer

than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender

than fourteen men between

your legs

or the insults are easier

to swallow

than rubble

than bone

than your child body

in pieces.

i want to go home,

but home is the mouth of a shark

home is the barrel of the gun

and no one would leave home unless home

chased you to the shore

unless home told you

to quicken your legs

leave your clothes behind

crawl through the desert

wade through the oceans

drown 

save

be hunger

beg

forget pride

your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear

saying-

leave,

run away from me now

i dont know what i've become

but i know that anywhere

is safer than here.

--Warsan Shire (1988- ), Somali-British poet, musician, and artist

Image: Flight, an installation by war artist Arabella Dorman in St. James's Church, Picadilly, London, from December 20, 2015-February 8, 2016. The dinghy was recovered from the island of Lesbos.

According to Victoria Emily Jones at her Art & Theology blog, "The rubber sea vessel Dorman used in the installation was designed to carry fifteen people but ended up carrying sixty-two. (Such overcrowding on refugee-filled boats is the norm.) While en route, it began taking on water, and its passengers had to be rescued by the Greek coast guard. Luckily, everyone survived. Passengers on other overtaxed vessels between Turkey and Greece have not been so lucky."

The Weight of the World

You wanna take it off
It’s the weight of the world
You want to set it free
Just for today
Can’t always be the one
To heal everything
And the weight of the world
Was never yours to keep

You can spend so many days
Trying to make the darkness go away
But it’s the weight of the world
It’s the curse of the worldly ways
Can’t keep it inside
So go on just let it out
It’s the weight of the world
If you ever had a doubt

You wanna take it off
‘Cause it makes your body hurt
It’s the weight of the world
It was never really yours
Can’t keep it inside
Oh, you know you gotta set it free
‘Cause the weight of the world
Was never yours to keep

No, it don't belong to you,
It was never yours to keep,
It's the weight of the world,
And you've gotta set it free

--Kat Goldman, sung by Dar Williams

In honor of the 11 dead and the wounded at the Anti-Semitic  mass murder at Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, PA, on October 27, 2018.