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| Our lady of Willseden |
Trevor, a member of both of our congregations, has written a poem about the shrine of Our Lady of Willesden, which we visited in August. He has allowed us to share it on this blog:
Black Madonna
Scarred hands and twisted arms
Carved in ebony
Boy child
Created with the same ferocity
That replicated her beauty
Strong arms
Lift him to the passing throng
In a gesture taut with longing
Strong hands
Gnarled but strangely delicate
Fingers cracked by hard work
Holy infant
Made from the same hard block
Cut to create his mother
His hands are different
Soft - reflecting the light
From the ring of votive candles
They are carved in white wood
The grain is faulty
Knots on the polished surface
Contorted like old wounds
The frail Franciscan Friar
Leans his head to the floor
As he kneels before the Icon
Almost indifferent
I pause to light a candle
Before continuing my journey
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