© 2019 Copyright Owene Courtney | Pilgrims' Journeys

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December 28, 2018


...and from Malcolm Guite's collection of poetry entitled Waiting on the Word:



We think of him as safe beneath the steeple,


Or cosy in a crib beside the font,


But he is with a million displaced people


On the long road of weariness and want.


For even as we sing our final carol


His family is up and on that road,


Fleeing the wrath of someone else's quarrel,


Glancing behind and shouldering their load.


Whilst Herod rages still from his dark tower


Christ clings to Mary, fingers tightly curled,


The lambs are slaughtered by the men of power,



And death squads spread their curse across the world.


But every Herod dies, and comes alone


To stand before the Lamb upon the throne.




Prayers for the Refugees on the road today...


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