Light
The sun woke me up this morning before my alarm went off. Our dog walk was taken under blue skies. The birds are chirruping away and the crocuses are out. The sun was warm enough to dry my washing and the daffodils are about to explode into bloom. Spring is on its way. The long days of summer will soon be here. It should be a time of rejoicing, but there is a heaviness in my heart.
Anyone that has been bereaved or that has received a devastating diagnosis will know the feeling one has while these questions go through one’s mind: “Why is the sun still shining?”, “Why are the birds singing?”, “How can people be carrying on with their lives?” It is almost as if we wish for the weather and our surroundings to reflect our mood. It reminds me of the song “The End of the World” sung by Skeeter Davis – “Why does the sun go on shining? Why does the sea rush to shore? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? ‘Cause you don’t love me any more. Why do the birds go on singing? Why do the stars glow above?” (The lyrics are by Dee Sylvia & Kent Arthur)
I know that I am not alone in feeling distressed by the situation in Ukraine. The outpouring of protest, the generous donations and the social media posts all point to the fact that there is huge support for Ukraine and that people are being driven to “do something”. The fact remains that, for the majority of us, there is little we can do. It does affect one’s mood and one feels as if darkness has descended.
I have been much encouraged by the Facebook Posts from Donna Ashworth Words. In a post two days ago she said:
"It’s been ten days my friend and if you have achieved little in that time, you are not alone. It is hard to act when frozen in disbelief. What you have done is you have hoped, and you have cared, and you have educated yourself. And vitally, you have sent your love out to the displaced and made space for them in your heart."
On a visit to Holy Trinity Church in Skipton, I found these words next to the votive candles:
The Light of Christ brings hope into our world Hope to steady anxiety Hope to calm fear Hope to accompany illness Hope to befriend loneliness Hope to thwart despair Hope to reconcile hatred Hope to forgive Hope to be forgiven Hope to dream of better times Hope to encourage the future Hope to re-build what lies in ruins Hope that God’s Kingdom will come Pray for the Light of Christ for anyone who needs Him
It is a reminder to never lose hope. No matter how deep the darkness, one small candle will bring some light. No matter how long the night, the sun will rise in the morning. No matter how harsh the winter, spring will come. As we unite in prayer and support of Ukraine, let us never lose hope.
Red Harvest
The fields where I walk have become a fruit farm.
Last summer I passed the migrant workers kneeling
under the polythene domes, as if in homage
to the god of the ripening sun, deft fingers
plucking the strawberries without bruising.
At the end of one long row a young woman,
hair coiled into a golden crown, raised the last
of her daily allowance to her lips, sweetness
making her burst into song, language unfamiliar,
yet I knew she was serenading her native land.
At the day’s end you gave me a strawberry
and conversed fluently in English, Irene.
‘Are you from Russia?’ ‘Oh no, Ukraine.
We are a free country from Putin.
I’m in Scotland to save plenty of currency
for the winter support of myself and family.’
When I asked if you would be back next year,
you said: ‘Oh for sure, it’s my second home.’
The strawberry plants are thriving
and they’ll soon roll out the polythene domes.
But are you lying on a slab in Ukraine,
the crown of your hair in ruins,
or pleading for your life as an invader trains
his gun at your head? Will the berries waste
because your compatriots are dead or detained
and there will be no squad to harvest them?
Or are you emulating Lyudmila Pavlichenko,
Ukraine-born, world-famous female sniper,
by kneeling by a burnt-out tank tonight,
future of your native land in your sights?
Lorn Macintyre
What a beautiful poem, Lorn!