For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together.
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 5
In my youth
I threw away the stones
That impeded my progress.
The stones of family,
Which held me down:
The stone of a mother’s love,
Which I thought was hate
Because it hurt.
The stone of a father’s love,
Because I didn’t understand
His need of me.
The stone of religion,
Because I’d outgrown it.
The stone of country
Because I moved away
To a land more large and free.
*
In my maturity
I gather the stones together again
To build a home.
The stones of family
And ancestors:
The stone of a mother’s love,
Cleansed of late
With tears of understanding.
The stone of a father’s love,
Redeemed by the love and care
Of a surrogate father.
The stone of religion,
Split into gems innumerable
With many facets, polished into brilliance,
Reflecting God’s spirit in my life.
The stone of my country,
My Celtic heritage,
Given pride of place in my new home
Of Canada.
*
The stones
I threw away in my youth,
I now gather
In my maturity,
To prepare a dolmen,
A holy dwelling,
For my soul’s eternity.
2 comments:
Oh, I like it!
Judith, I believe I'm much better able to appreciate this poem and those of similar theme than I would have been a couple of decades ago.
There's so much that resonates in my heart in this season of life, now.
Thank you.
Thanks Peter. As I grow older I begin to understand my parents so much better than I did when I was young! I think my mother and I would have been good friends if she had lived until my adult years. I regret having lost her in my childhood.
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