A long time ago, you were fragile, emerging from behind a shy glance,
you came out to meet the world,
which greeted you with nothing more than taunts and jeers,
you had no name, you began to believe you didn't deserve one.
bit by bit, you began to see that so many pieces didn't fit,
they said so, they think im weird, they think i m a loser
and you tore them off your being, flung them far, far away,
pretended it was ok
apart from the tears at night,
you thought it was loneliness,
you always wanted to belong,
but those were the tears of a betrayed self.
Years pass before you bring the broken pieces
of what remains of yourself,
and lay it before this compassionate presence,
whom you only dimly perceived before.
no more the judge, the policeman, the accountant,
keeping track of wrongdoing and mistake.
now watch, this Father has kept, precious, pure,
those parts you had cast aside,
where have those jagged edges gone?
smoothening the cracks and zig zag lines,
in His light, they take on a beauty that He has seen and known,
they remind you that you were loved. you are loved.
and gently, oh so gently, He shows you
where each piece belongs in and of you,
the past, the present, the form of the future.
the Father never forgot the wholeness of who you were.
*Written in honour of the feastday of St Ignatius of Loyola - 31 July 2012*