Two New Poems On mother Theresa and Flowers

Dear beloved and precious readers,
I include a poem on Mother Theresa on the importance of charity for us Christians and all people of good will. Mother talked about the hand, five fingers for “you did it to me”, Christ words “as long as you did it to anyone of these the least of my brethren you did it to”. For mother the “least”, represented the poorest of the poor who were other Christs, and when we served them we served him. Best wishes
                                                      Fr. Con

Mother Theresa Speaks

I will go down into the dust

With Christ in order to be raised up.

With the poor, the marginalised,

The oppressed, for the last will be first.

I will go down into the dust with Christ

In order to be raised up.

I will sup of vinegar and bread crusts,

In order to be blessed.

I will strip myself

Of everything that’s best

And lie down on the cross.

I will suffer cold and loss,

To alleviate the lot of the oppressed.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ in order to be raised up.

I will be cursed and despised,

By the wordly wise,

All beauty lost.

I will be tossed

Into the fire of greed

And burned like the rest.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ, in order to be raised up.

I will sup with robbers and thieves

With widows and battered wives,

And orphans abused.

I will lose all dignity and be despised, used.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ in order to be raised up.

In city dumps and dark alleyways,

I will breed; among stink and disease

I will be healed, and heal.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ in order to be raised up.

On locusts and wild honey I will feed,

To find the heart’s need.

Among tarts and aids patients

I will thrive, free and be freed.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ in order to be raised up.

Among maggots I will set up my monument.

In the scent of death

I will reinvent myself in truth.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ in order to be raised up.

Among rascals and raggamuffins

I will take my meals.

Among madmen and masturbators

I will wait for truth.

Among gangs of bootboy youths

And cardboard drunks,

Among junkies and high-rise flats

I will fumble my way up to the tenement stars.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ, in order to be raised up.

I will toss my life into the tomb

In order to be embalmed with light.

I will rescue the child in the womb

In order to assail the night.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ in order to be raised up

I will trust myself into the dim light

Of the graffiti ghettoes

In order to grasp insight.

I will go down into the dust

With Christ in order to be raised up.

Raise me up, O Lord

As I go ever lower,

In my poor depths may I know

The essence of your power.

Flowers

Olden flowers still infold me,

Golden flowers cover me,

As of flowers in the meadow,

Father mowed beside the Lee.

Woven flowers still infold me.

Laid in swarths like waves of sea,

Scented hay-time temptress take me,

Lord, to truths I used to be.

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