 |
| Amir Belhoula |
The
Winter is Cold, Is Cold
The
winter is cold, is cold.
All’s
spent in keeping warm.
Has
joy been frozen, too?
I
blow upon my hands
Stiff
from the biting wind.
My
heart beats slow, beats slow.
What
has become of joy?
If
joy’s gone from my heart
Then
it is closed to You
Who
made it, gave it life.
If
I protect myself
I’m
hiding, Lord, from you.
How
we defend ourselves
In
ancient suits of mail!
Protected
from the sword,
Shrinking
from the wound,
We
look for happiness,
Small,
safety-seeking, dulled,
Selfish,
exclusive, in-turned.
Elusive,
evasive, peace comes
Only
when it’s not sought.
Help
me forget the cold
That
grips the grasping world.
Let
me stretch out my hands
To
purifying fire,
Clutching
fingers uncurled.
Look!
Here is the melting joy.
My
heart beats once again.
Madeleine
L' Engle
Snow and fire. Fear or
trust. Where does joy begin?.
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