A reflection by Sr Bríd, fcJ written between Palm Sunday, 5 April, and Holy Thursday, 9 April 2020.
Artwork by Sr Claire, fcJ
Silence, a stillness … everywhere … in the air.
A feeling of being unsafe, afraid, anxious.
Covid 19, lurching about.
Fearing, unknowing, unwittingly
inhaling, taking in the virus.
No borders, no boundaries.
Unawares. It might be close, looking for
another residence. A leveller among us.
Worldwide. Science researching.
Follow the guidelines, wash hands,
keep a distance, cough cautiously and
keep everywhere clean. Wash. Wash. Wash.
Who will be taken, who will be left?
People are ill, some very ill, so many new cases.
Health carers are our lifeline as death knocks on the door,
especially for the elderly, the vulnerable.
They leave. Alone. Lonely. No goodbyes.
Not quite still, but a hush. Employment gone.
True leadership holds the day. Who am I now?
A foreigner, a refugee in this new and strange land.
No map. Each day making the path by walking.
Self-isolating, cocooning. Staying home.
‘Slow down your mind. I am there. I am here.’
“Remain in my love.” [1] Isolate together.
Be still, breathe deeply. Be aware.
In devastation, breathing for many,
becomes life or death. Concentration an effort.
The earth, however, breathes more freely.
In relief, new life seeps back into her lungs.
Listen. The birds are singing.
“Yet, not one falls to the ground without
your heavenly father knowing it.” [2]
Daffodils flower, bloom and die.
“There are things (people, places)
you can’t reach,
but you can reach out to them, and
all day long.” [3] Tenderly. Lovingly.
Be still. “Remain in my love.” Now.
The present moment. Flourish. Now.
This is what we have. What we share.
Fear and courage. Becoming. Now.
Together. Embraced in hope for an unknown future.
[1] John 15:9
[2] Matthew 10:29
[3] Where Does the Temple Begin, Where Does It End? Mary Oliver
