Missionary

Holding you 

in my hands,

I see 

your tiny feet,

hope 

you'll live 

to walk 

these stony paths 

to the pump 

to get water.

Your meekness and gentleness

are Jesus to me today.

I asked 

for holes 

in the palms 

of my hands.

I received you.

I sought 

holes 

in the soles 

of my feet,

found 

this winding road 

to mud bricks and thatched roofs 

under baobab trees.

I knocked 

on the door 

for a hole 

in my side,

opened it 

into the life 

of a broken child.

The stigmata,

in the holy poverty 

of an unknown African village 

where suffering and love 

are found 

in their wholeness.

Listening to you,

I understand 

you are an end 

in yourself,

not a means 

to an end.

Looking at you,

I see 

you are a beginning 

in yourself,

a new way 

for me 

to see.

Loving you,

I feel you 

living 

in my heart.

 Liberating love.

Trevor Scott Barton, Ordinary Time, 2019