no records of dates and times,
we, who came and went to the
village of our youth.
We seldom mentioned the quiet joy
of meeting ageing faces.
of meeting ageing faces.
Now they too have gone
And join their parents from earlier days.
And join their parents from earlier days.
We who follow them
accept our new positioning
accept our new positioning
in the portraiture of time.
For we
too belong
and need only wait our place.
(these few lines are written in memory of Brendan McIntyre, an old school friend of long ago)
and need only wait our place.
(these few lines are written in memory of Brendan McIntyre, an old school friend of long ago)
During my first trip home to South Africa in 12 years, I was able to have dinner with a very dear friend. We met each other when we were 4 years old. Her aunt and my sister worked together. She was everything I wasn't - but we were very close friends. I left my hometown to go to university and we drifted apart, but the bond was there. 54 years later, saying goodbye again just seemed so final. Your beautifully written piece in memory of your friend Brendan, reminded me so much of how precious people are and we are all just in the queue. Good bless you, Father Val.
ReplyDeleteHopefully, even though we may be in the queue, we have tried, in our own faltering way to help make the world a better place, built on gospel values. To be just next in line seems so mechanistic, without soul. What does it profit a man if he wins the whole world, but loses his soul.
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