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Sense and Sensitivity

February 3, 2014

Alwy Fadel, Villawood detainee. Coffee painting

How is it that the world’s suffering

is right under our noses

and yet still invisible to us;

in the very air we breath
and yet we do not taste its bitterness;

in our very hands to change
and yet are our finger tips so numb
our palms so calloused
our joints so clumsy

that we can crush
whole boatloads of Noah’s arks
that we can fumble and forget
whole tribes of Pharoah’s slaves escaped and camped in the wilderness
that we can drop
whole generations of Herod’s rival babies
in our hasting grasps and grabs
for gods and phantoms of good

restore our senses, o God
our sense of touch, taste, sight, smell, sound
restore our senses, o God
our sense of justice, mercy, right, humility, compassion
restore our senses, o God
our sense of responsiveness,
our sense of responsibility

(a prayer that owes much to the legacy of Ross Langmead, who taught me to pray, and taught me to pray ‘Lord let me see’)

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