Woman

But first you shall labour, 
Blessed Mother.
Your days are hidden.

Eternal soul, 
sure and innocent, rejoice!
The Lord endures forever.

Your message is power.
Those who believe, proclaim
the temple of his body raised.

[Lent 2018]
 

The Runners of Burundi

Out of Bujumbura 
just after dawn,
climbing towards 
the high plateau.

The people, running,
a great long line. 
Some in clusters,
others holding hands.

Years of conflict; 
fear, and claustrophobia.
The President, with
his cavalcade of rifles.

A place fertile enough 
to be self-sufficient,
sucked dry by corruption.
Time and again.

Halfway down, we drove
past a lone jogger.
His eyes locked forward, 
his hands shadow-boxing. 

[BBC: From Our Own Correspondent]