Our school has had more – much more – than its share of tragedy within the last two years, including the deaths of five current students and two members of staff. This was uppermost in my mind when I was asked to take my turn at providing the prayer / reflection for staff briefing this morning:
St George, your England looks a different place to us
At least our little portion of it. Birth and death
They are the normal way of things of course, but does
It have to be that we meet so much of the latter?
What matter, that dragons seem more plentiful than swords?
O patron of our English land, can we demand
That our share of blows be somehow deemed unfair
When blessings for the most part shower themselves on us
Compared with most who have lived, and still do, elsewhere?
But balance, or bounty, mean nothing to the bereft;
What weft can hold the warp of lives now rent askew?
Perhaps only the gossamer threads of a faith
As fragile, St George, as the legends of you.