Is Joseph a character you've thought about before? He disappears from the Gospels during Jesus' childhood and often remains nothing more than a background figure in the stories. In a traditional, patriarchal culture it is unusual for the father of a family to be dwarfed by his wife and child - but then, his wasn't exactly a traditional family.

Poet Denis Adide has chosen to explore imaginatively Joseph's experience, and invites us to consider the cost he paid when he chose to do what God asked of him. He could never have known what that act of obedience would lead to - what joy and love would open up as he parented the son of God - and what sorrow, grief and impotence would also be his. As youthworkers, we too are invited into a story where we will experience great love and joy through the young people we lead; but our powers are limited, and there is also, inevitably, a cost.

Joseph

The words chimed on the wind like a soft breathed whisper,

then lingered lazy - full of as much meaning as a seaside sunset -

and yet,

what thoughts it triggered weren’t new but old,

untold and not faced since we first visited the city:

“Rising and falling of many…”

Sustained they were by a heartache fore-felt,

despite valiant efforts to forget,

and the unfulfilled thirst to whisk you away

forsaking the path set.

I did it before once,

when the drums were rolled

and chariots scolded the roads to us;

when spears were wielded

and swords throttled new sons.

I knew then we had to flee

but from this… from this… I can’t keep.

I saw it, I saw it as I was sweeping,

sweeping sawdust -

which mixed with my weeping made for a somber evening.

My work was finished,

The table was made:

smooth and with carvings overlaid.

What remained were the three nails

nestled together at the centre

receiving and reflecting the bright midday light.

“Rising and falling…”

I beheld the sight

and the old fright gripped me to the core

you were mine but always more

and the road to be walked was yours -

I knew then that I couldn’t follow.

For a while my days were made hollow.

Drawn out evenings,

shallow mornings,

and skies coloured by mourning eyes:

The seconds for my pleading still wouldn’t relent,

you were, in my weeping: the son I couldn’t protect;

you were, for my keeping: the Son I couldn’t reject;

the one my heart could not forget

nor eyes evade when the time came.

And come the time surely would,

so said the whispers,

the nails,

and the wood that perfectly still -

though the days moved -

before me perfectly stood.

“Rising and falling”

The words chimed on the wind like a soft breathed whisper,

then lingered lazy - full of as much meaning as a seaside sunset:

three nails, and my little lamb on the table laid.

Softly said with an exhale

so that I would know that my failing

was simultaneously also my hope

and though I grope at strength to save you

what I need do is repent.

Son I love you,

so when comes the prophets day,

and your flesh succumbs to the slightest decay,

I like your Father wont turn away

it wont be dismay but heartache…

and gratitude…

and pride…

and gratitude…

and sorrow

and gratitude…

and pain.

© Denis Adide 2018