Today, I’d like to feature the artwork and poetry of my good friend and colleague, the Rev. Allison Becker. She is a pastor in Scotland and a creator and curator of many beautiful words and expressions of art. I am so grateful for her friendship and her many gifts.
Refugee Child
They had no idea where his accent was exactly from
They both spoke
In halting words
Picked up at trading posts
Along the way
Escaping
a far off calamity
With names and places
Out of context
And out of sight
Some mention
Of the tragedy
Had reached some near them
But only their family
Seemed to have escaped it
She sang lullabys
In tunes too foreign
In words unknown
To anyone but themselves
He trading what little they had for food
Few could understand them
At all
Some took pity on them
A young family barely getting by
In what seemed to by a makeshift tent
They certainly had packed in a hurry
Carrying what they could
She went to get
Water daily like everyone else
But their tent was ill-equipped for the winds,
morning sun and evening cold
Some more patient
Stopped by to listen
And
They seemed to encounter there
Much more than the story
Leaving their tent
They seemed
Glazed-eyed in wonder
Changed in ways that were hard to describe
Some, mainly mothers,
Spoke the language that
Has no need of words
But understands need
Offering Gentle care and strength
Bringing extra blankets
And a bit more fruit and bread by
One family did the most
Travelers themselves
They
Saw to it to take them in
Two years about they stayed
Far beyond house guests
Family
Settling in this land
Joseph putting his skill to work
Mary raising their son
In time more
And more beholding
Just who
They had
Welcomed in
— Rev. Allison Becker, 2019
Smuggling Grace 