Posted by: Peadar Ban | March 1, 2009

Present In the Room

Who sits with them in the little room,
The mother, with her daughter,
Remembering as another
Uninvited speaks of freedom …

Who propounds maternal duty,
Insinuates loving obligation
Of a mother to her daughter,
To help in dire necessity, but
Without the slightest mention
(An outcome full of dread)
That the choice will end
In someone’s being dead?

This one, the new officious “friend,”
Invading presence in the room,
Nonchalantly draping doom
Around the border of love’s end,
Somehow banishing hope and laughter
From the world forever after.

“Advice and help, as I live
Is my only goal. Believe!
You must clearly see
What she so dearly needs.
Support her! Gather her nearly
To your mother’s breast.
Carry her, if you must! Your will
Can bring her what she wants. Do give,
As mothers, from of old, can best.”

“Oh, this is what I most enjoy!
Chaos, disarray, distress …
Great heaviness of heart. I
Pleasure most of all in this
Eternity holds no greater bliss
Than death as a solution
To some un-wanted new ‘pollution’ …”
This presence in the room
Clings deliciously to doom.

“How can I be heard in all of this
Who un-speaking speaks one wish?
I am alone, not even here,
Except in potentiality,
No matter mere, simplicity
Growing more complex,
But never less
Than gift as promise ever kept.
Do not havoc futures, mine and yours,
Begun in love, for death ends sure.
Attend that Presence in the room
Which can save us all from doom.”

“Never think I cannot hear,
I, who hear everything and care
For you as if each one
Were all my hand had ever made.
I listen and I am. Betrayed
I will not betray.
I will not withhold my aid,
Who never created life to die —
Yet, freedom is… I won’t reverse
That choice though founded on a lie.
Death is not, cannot endure,
But Truth, in hell, must be a Womb —
Imprisoned in self-love, eternal doom.”

“Where is native kindness?
I long to be caressed,
To hear your gentle voice
Breathe blessing o’er my infant bed.
Pray, give me that chance —
Allow us both the dance
Of faithful choice.”


  1. On Saturday mornings I usually join Helpers of God’s Precious Infants in prayer in reparation for the murder of the innocents occurring at that very hour in one of our local clinics of death–instituted of course for the greater good, as it is imagined. There on our knees on the sidewalk the spiritual forces of good and evil do battle in our minds and hearts as in the same of those within the immediate vicinity both inside and outside the clinic. The seductive voice which would rationalize the unmentionable usually makes itself felt. Sometimes it inspires a feeling of futility. But usually the triumph of the battle in our hearts and minds belongs to That Which supersedes all, Which never changes–His offer of mercy, love, and repentance…..and His utter rejection of any compromise with the rationalizations of evil, through the repetition of the holy prayers He has graciously permitted to us, perhaps above all in that prayer to the Mother of all mankind: Hail Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with thee…blessed is the fruit of thy womb…pray for us sinners….


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