Jaffna, Christmas 1996
Jaffna, Christmas 1996
(A Prayer)
Praise be, Lord.
Receive the night prayer that I offer from a house whose roof has been torn away.
This year, when You were born, our churches were closed.
The midnight bells that proclaim Your coming had been arrested.
On that rejected holy night, Rachel wept for her generations.
She lamented; she pleaded.
Beneath the voice of the grieving mother, blood lay scattered.
Her sacred tears flowed through the dark, lamp-less streets and washed them.
Father, when You were born on that night of curfew,
we were strangers in our own city.
In our own courtyards, we were herded like cattle.
Our villages were stolen;
they were wiped away from the earthly landscape of history.
Our town was humiliated by the cries of victory proclamations.
Father, all Your people have been scattered.
Their homes stand deserted.
Their voices have been seized.
Along all the pathways of Your Church dwell their neglected sorrows.
Before the rooster crowed, Peter denied everything many times.
Father, a captive city has no song;
no festival;
no joy.
And yet, I know that You have been born
upon this blood-soaked land,
in eternal silence.
— P. Akilan
Translation by Hari
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