Your face in mine

I want more of Your face in mine;
Wiped into the folds of my skin,
The folds of my flesh,
The folds of my face.

And Lord Jesus,
Help me see you
In every face
Before me.

A reflection I have on a line from Michael O’Siadhail’s poem, “Transit”:
“Tell me we live
For those faces wiped into the folds of our being.”

O’Siadhill’s poem is quoted in David F. Ford, The Drama of Living: Becoming Wise in the Spirit (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2014), p. 50. Concerning O’Siadhill’s poem, Ford writes, “The final sentence suggests why the face-to-face is so fundamental to who we are. Much research has been done on the bonding of mothers and babies and the importance of their face-to-face interaction. Our early formation with parents, brothers, sisters, wider family, playmates, and others shapes us profoundly– those faces wiped into the folds of our being.” Ford goes on to suggest that for sometimes better and sometimes worse, this face-to-face “folding” continues throughout life, through all the people involved in our life.

An afterthought:
Can we allow the faces of brothers and sisters in Christ’s Body, though so different from our own inclinations, likes, and preferences, to be wiped” into our face- as we acknowledge that they too are uniquely and charismatically endowed with gifts of the Spirit?


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