We think we know each other
But we don’t
We have an image
And the stories that we tell
But the person still eludes us
The things we never knew
We cannot really say
I knew you well
I stepped into my garden
There, a minute
Through a door
I very rarely use
I saw my garden
From another angle
It seemed so fresh so different
Like news
I think of all my family
How I know them
The images I have
The picture show
But none of it is accurate
It’s just the bit I see
They’re mysteries still
Respect what you don’t know
Jesus came to Nazareth
They knew him very well
The carpenter
The son of so and so
Now suddenly a preacher
And clever with it all
We can’t have this
Get back in your stall
Familiar faces
We think that they don’t change
Set in stone like statues
In the square
If we don’t give permission
They must stay the same
How can they change?
Don’t you even dare!
Our eyes look out
Upon familiar stories
Familiar scenes
Familiar enmities
We need fresh eyes to see
How different we can be
How fresh how new
Such possibility
Brian Fahy
3 July 2021
+ Jesus visits his hometown and the local people only see the person they thought they knew. BF.
Erris Poetry 