WHAT IS THIS THING CALLED LOVE?

[Maureen K Clifford]

This has been sitting on the back burners since the floods and today was as good a day as any to finish it. I am not particularly religious I tend to follow my Dad's train of thought in that you don't need a church to worship and that going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car. I just try to do the right thing.

It was sparked by the amount of helpers we got when we were in flood. Heather noticed a similar thing during the fires. And always people would tell you that they were OK but Joe Blow down the street could do with a hand - Aussie pride goes hand in hand with Aussie mateship I reckon - so this was my take on 'doing your bit - the Aussie way,'


MATTHEW 19 – 19
Love thy neighbour as thyself


When it’s cold and it’s raining and snowing outside
who cares for the tiny tit willow?
Till a big bovine steer with a leathery hide
comes along like an overstuffed pillow,
and deposits a cow pat right there on the ground
which is hot, warm and steaming, well then I’ll be bound
that the tiny tit bird has a warm spot just found,
but no doubt by that some folks are thwarted.

When the river has flooded and torn nests aside
of the swans and the ducks and the moorhens.
And the land everywhere is a turbulent tide
can you think where this story just might end?
Does it end with the cygnets and chicks swept away?
Is it finish to all? – They are helpless today.
Or are there folks who’d help them find places to stay?
Good Samaritans, wildlife supported.

If you see an old fellow out there on the street
and you know he sleeps rough in cold weather.
Would you take him a blanket and hot food to eat
or would you get some close friends together
and endeavour to help him as best that you could
to find warmth and shelter – I’m hoping you would,
for even the worst of us harbour some good
and at times all need to be comforted.

When you see the young bloke lying drunk on the street
it’s perhaps a wise move to walk by.
For you’ve heard tell that violence sometimes you might meet
though you worry perhaps he might die.
For he lies in his own stinking vomited mess.
To ignore him would be easy this I confess
but you’d hate to read of his death in the press,
so at least get the problem reported.

If you’re sitting at home feeling lonely once more
for no emails today you’ve received.
No phone calls have come; no one’s knocked on your door
and you’re feeling neglected and grieved.
Just think of that old person there in your street
who lives on their own. Unsteady on their feet.
They perhaps have nobody at all they can greet
and perhaps by new friendships are thwarted.

Perhaps if you dropped by and just mentioned that
you had some magazines you had finished,
and you wondered if maybe they’d like them to read
by your gesture they’d not feel diminished.
You could chat just a little and give them a smile,
ask would they like a visitor once in a while,
that’s step one of the journey of one thousand miles
and your own lousy day you have sorted,
just doing what the good Lord exhorted.


Maureen Clifford © 07/11