Proses & Poems
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Posted March 9, 2021
Some Context: The prose below was written from an inspiration I had while altar serving one morning. I had reflected, in my minds eye, an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in the tabernacle to help me be more focused – reminding myself of whose majestic presence was before me. Ironically, although I tried to use this image to keep me free from distraction, my imagination went haywire after realizing that it might make a good prose. I started writing it down as soon as I got home. And it turned out to be one of my favourite pieces. I hope you like it and find it edifying:
Written on July 16, 2019
by Keith D.S.L. Mayhew – Hammond
Furnace of Radiant Love
I hear it. The blazing fire that burns in the tabernacle. Throughout the Nave it echoes, welcoming me as I enter in through the doors. The roaring of fire swells with the sound of Christ’s Sacred Heart, beating as a drum for me. My soul cannot help but dance to the percussion, and to the melody of Heavenly choirs singing in adoration of Him. While my feet guide me through the Nave towards the Sanctuary, my own heart unites with His until they beat in unison. An intense radiating heat enkindles my body and soul with delight as I kneel before the altar. The fire’s penetrating heat does not scare me. Well maybe a little. Yet it is a good fear. The flame’s radiance threatens to burn away every false thing that I hold dear. I know that I should not cling to earthly cares, yet I struggle to let go. May that battle in my soul continue until all that remains is an empty vessel; that He may fill it to the brim and his all-consuming love incandesce me.
Grow my vessel O Sacred Heart of Christ, every moment of every day, so that my flask can hold a greater and greater volume of your charity. And I wish to reciprocate that love with you and with others. May anything that holds us back from you not be able to remain in your presence.
Divine Child of the Cross, let your Sacred Heart, that burning furnace of charity ever fan the flames of my own heart. Make our hearts as one, and grow mine so that in magnitude it might experience more and more of your embrace.
You don’t just love me you like me too. And you don’t just like me, you love me as well. But still more, not only do you both like and love me beyond anything I could understand, you also prefer me. And not just when I am faithful. Even when I have betrayed you, countless times, your preferential love seeks me out and finds me, leaving me no choice but to return to your mercy. My clouded judgement veiled my eyes from seeing your glow. But you stepped in and removed the fog, and continue to do so, that my eyes may see crystal clear the fulness of who you really are.
My Daddy, brother, son, friend, companion, comrade, and spiritual lover. You are all that I need – everything and everyone. Yet you provide me with more than I need, befriending me with companions that we may share ever more of your love when together with you. Love is infinite! The more we experience and share your love, the more it grows.
May I do more than like and love you. May I prefer your company every moment of every day into eternity. Impossible though it is for me to desire you as much as you desire me, grant me the graces needed to grow in that desire daily, hourly, by every minute of every day, until the gates of Heaven usher me into your eternal charitable presence.
Sacred Heart of the Divine Child of the Cross, preserve us with your countenance.
Posted March, 2021
Context for clock prose below: In the middle of writing a story that involved clock demons (yes this is how I spend my time), I had noticed how many clock related words had counterpart words of the same pronunciation with completely different meanings. One thing led to another, and, needless to say, I ended up writing a witty word play story. I hope you like it:
Written on November 21, 2020
by Keith D.S.L. Mayhew-Hammond
Analog Clock Shock Humour
I was very confused by the clock repair man. Hearing that he was quite knowledgeable in his field, I thought that he might have been clock-wise. But after spending time with him, I’m no longer sure. When I arrived, I asked him if he had a second. He told me that he had a second, a minute, and an hour; whichever one I needed a hand for. I told him that I was not sure how much time it would take, but that my first hand could use some repair. He pointed to the physicians’ office down the street and than began to examine my hour hand.
“Hour hand,” he stated while examining the clock. “Clock needs a new one.” I told him it was my hand, not ours. But I did need my first hand replaced. He told me that he had one in stock but that it was second hand. And then I corrected him that it was the first hand that I needed repaired. But he claimed it was a second hand first hand.
He then examined my second hand. He noticed that the second hand was counting seconds instead of minutes which was no good. He said the second hand was in worse condition and should be replaced first. He said that I was in luck since he had a first hand second hand already in stock. I was relieved to not have to settle for a second hand second hand.
Regrettably, even the third hand needed replaced. The problem with the third hand was that it kept trying to shake the first and second hand, but they avoided him, causing all the time to go out of whack completely. Unfortunately, he did not have a first hand or a second hand third hand in stock. I was ticked off by the inconvenience. How could he have a second hand first hand, a first hand second hand, but not a first hand or second hand third hand?
He proceeded to explain to me the concept of timed obsolescence, but I told him that I was out of time. He told me it was perfect timing since he needed to close up shop. I left just in time as he clocked out.
Posted March, 2021
Context for this poem below: In reflecting upon how my guardian angel has always been there for me, watching over me, it dawned on me how, since he only wants what’s best for me and has never left my side, he has always been one of my most intimate companions. I decided to write him a poem in gratitude:
Written on September 14, 2019
by Keith D.S.L. Mayhew-Hammond
My most Intimate Companion
Alone we enter this world and that is how we die.
What a terribly absurd and pernicious lie!
To me gifted from birth until my very end,
Is my most fierce and loving hidden friend.
To this Guardian Angel it must be well known,
That I entered into the world quite accident prone;
Likely, I give him the jitters in every act I perform,
Deeming each deed as great a risk as a hail storm.
A klutz is more grateful to his Angel I can assure,
But not just for safety in this world to endure;
I must give eternal thanks all the more indeed,
For tirelessly without ceasing for my soul does he plead.
Whether choking, laughing, fleeing or crying,
Sleeping, living, and when sick, or dying,
He has, is, and always will be by my side,
Until from my corpse my very soul is pried.
Yet will he not cease to be when my time is done,
My most loving intimate eternal companion.
A single Angel could have watched over a thousand souls,
But one to each God befriended those who try these earthly tolls.
Wanting to share his glory and spread so much love,
He chose to give us our special friend from above.
Thank you, dear Angel, for everything that you do.
The times when I thank you are far too few.
If I knew about you sooner, this amazing truth,
Certainly, would I have prayed to you from my early youth.
But now I will make up for it double time
By extolling you with praises sublime.
Keep my heart towards the God of wonder,
That I may, Him, ever ponder.
Keep me far from evil in love so tender,
That God’s tie to me be not torn asunder.
Cleanse my heart from all complaints.
And wrap me tight with the prayers of the Saints.
In perpetual vigil please watch over me.
Keep me from dangers I’m too blind to see.
Bring my thoughts to rest from every fright,
And safely close my eyes at night.
And when death knocks, whether I’m young or old,
Carry my soul to God’s eternal abode.
Dear Angel friend be ever mine;
My everlasting Valentine.