A Poem from the Women’s Weekend

This was presented at women@stmatts weekend@home on 18-19 November.

Would he speak my language—TAW 2011

Would he speak my language if he came to earth for me?
Would he recognise my features, and wave across the street?
Would he want to spend time with me, and arrange a place to meet?
Would he speak my language if he came to earth for me?

Would he sit at table with me, with my friends and family?
Would he want to say grace for us, before we start to eat?
Would he change the water into wine, the crumbs into a feast?
Would he sit at table with me, with my friends and family?

Would he follow me to work and sit across the desk from me?
Eat doughnuts in the staff room, and talk of what was on TV?
Would he get bored during meetings, and so slowly fall asleep?
Would he follow me to work and sit across the desk from me?

Would he join me on the school run, in the rush at half past three
Collecting kids and bags and coats, and kissing injured knees?
Would he laugh and splash in puddles as we ran beneath the trees?
Would he join me on the school run, in the rush at half past three?

Would he meet me at my lowest ebb, in the depths of tragedy
When all seems false and far-away, and pain is all I see
When I start to build the walls that separate the rest from me—
Would he meet me at my lowest ebb, in the depths of tragedy?

Jesus, would you be my friend? Would you join my family?
The God who comes to earth each day, the God who comes for me
The one who knows my thoughts, in whom I was, am and will be
This Jesus: come, and be my friend; come, and walk each step with me.

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