Brian’s Reflection: Saturday, October 6, 2007


When Autumn Came

This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,
scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shape
undisturbed by a single moan of protest.

The birds that herald dreams
were exiled from their song,
each voice torn out of its throat.
They dropped into the dust
even before the hunter strung his bow.

Oh, God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodies
with the passion of your resurrection;
make their dead veins flow with blood again.

Give some tree the gift of green again.
Let one bird sing.

- by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, born (not on this day!) in Sialkot, India, 1911 (Translated by Naomi Lazard)


What we go through in our lives! As a priest, I have sat with or visited many people in illness, people facing fear, people despondent, people stunned into incomprehension. All sorts of challenges to mortal life, to hope. I have found it difficult at times. Because I am a “realist”. A wise mentor once told me, never say false stupidities to people. Be honest about our fragility. Speak of the Mystery, of the gift of Life miraculously extended, only “God knows” how or why. Yes, with myself too. When facing serious surgery, I center myself to live or die, to be thankful should I awake. Every time I have, I am even more determined to rise from the “withered body” and enjoy Life and Being.

Enjoy the poem. Give thanks for the “gift of green again”, for the one bird singing. For you. For another.

Brian+