#BIGRead14: The Lost (Read by Richard Hilton)

Listening

Rarely have I been lost,
seriously lost, unable to find a way forward or a way home.
Often enough I have been a little unsure of
exactly where I am
or a bit bewildered as I consider
whether to turn left or right
or go straight on.

Being truly lost is my genuine nightmare.
I find myself just too confused.
I see no familiar view or place.
I see no friendly face.
I do not understand the words I hear.
I misread the signs.
Notices are a mystery to me.

Many are lost this day.
too far away from home to return,
alienated from all that is around.
Distant from whatever is closest.
Close only to their own sense of fear
and smallness.

So many of the lost are children.
Rejected by parents unable to love.
Let go by parents unable to cope.
taken by fleeing parents from violence and famine.
Stolen or kidnapped to be sold or used.

Refugee child, Christ child, hold them in your silent embrace
when they are at their most lost.

So many of the lost are elderly,
unable to remain on good­-enough terms with the people
who populate
their past and shuffle in the corridors of their minds:
straining to see and hear and to accept
the pace of change
that outstrips personal and private decay;
driven by need from homeland and unable to cope
in premature demise;
racked in pain and ailment,
rendered miserable and shunned;
experiencing diminishment of body and
loss of mind, feeling memories slip through
frail and wrinkled fingers.

Ancient of Days, draw them forward to
Thy light
Thy peace
Thy company
Thy home.


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