Who maps the borders and boundaries
of another human heart?
The opposition is formidable
powered by conventional gas,
Slander and detraction the spearheads
praying for salvation at Mass,
Not for their delivery but ours,
Not our shame but theirs,
pretending to be family players.
Preaching the values of time
sitting on benches of straw,
All with impeccable pedigrees
laying down their version of the law.
And we listen to the vitriolic lectures
of the narrow minded, chosen few,
And we sigh and we smile and carry on
and ask ourselves, what’s new?
It’s plain and clear that they never felt
what we have and will forever,
bonds of faith and fondness
that back stabbing cannot sever.
It’s easy to condemn a different air
and claim it to be out of tune,
perhaps for once give benefit of the doubt
and believe that we see the same moon.
Their efforts are all in vain,
They can fill the parish with thunder,
Our power of near and together
will never surrender or sunder.
We have the armour of care
to protect us from critical weather,
and when the fuss is all over
our decision; on the team, together.