Ash Wednesday

Today I burn the things which pull me back into the old me.

The shame and guilt I feel for failures past,

Things I know I should have done better,

Things I know I should never have done.

Things I did in anger or selfishness,

Without due thought for others or rightful care.

Things I did in fear or panicked haste,

Without due thought to unforeseen consequences.

Things I did in response to my own nagging doubts and demons,

Without due thought for where they may take or leave me.

I burn the obsessions and preoccupations that refuse to let me grow into the me that you see,

The pattern behaviours and co-dependencies that keep me anchored,

The wounds and tears that I cannot allow to heal,

The scabs I delight in picking off before their time.

The habits and addictions that I hold to from fear and insecurity.

I burn the desires I know are harmful,

The ambitions that persuade me that it’s ok to stand on others,

That allow me to minimise the gifts of others for my gain.

That emerge from greed, pride and competitiveness.

I burn these things and I mark myself with ash,

As a welcome to true vulnerability and humility.

In the ashes there is a new life,

life dependent on love, on simple truth and righteousness.

I commit to this life,

Free from guilt and shame,

Free from anger and fear,

Free from greed and pride.

The sound of sheer silence

The sound of sheer silence,

Fights to be heard amongst the clatter and clamour,

Still the battering fears,

The questions that scream,

The anguish that points and pokes,

And tries to suffocate my space,

Doubts that roar in the tumultuous wind,

Accusations that pierce my awareness fired by the storm,

Insecurities crashing in my head in the fall of a great river,

In the noise I hear no voice but my own,

My weak voice, my raw voice, my tired voice.

My voice bringing me down, destroying my confidence, prodding my wounds.

Stand, still.

Do not hear the storm, the wind, the rain.

Hear instead the sound of sheer silence.

Hear the voice in peace,

Hear the voice of peace,

Hear the voice… peace.

1 Kings 19:11-13

Wrestling Angels

Through the night Jacob had to fight,

Eye to eye, arm to arm,

held, twisting, pulling, knees. elbows,

Muscles and joints tensed in the search for purchase,

Pressure building in desperation and frustration,

Why must we wrestle, how is that love?

But the fight will not end,

Where is mercy, where is peace?

No space, face to face,

Only hard eyes and harder fists,

Down on the solid earth,

Bruising,

Tearing,

Ripping,

Bleeding,

In the dust and the dirt, stinging raw flesh,

Grinding bones and bedrock,

Forcing breath, and sweat and pain.

Day breaking, body breaking,

By the crooked river,

Bones are bent out of shape,

Forever crooked.

Scars born in love and hope,

Wounds exchanged for a name,

a blessing ripped from deepest injury.

With the rising sun a gift of pain that remains.

A reminder of the most intimate battle.

Not won or lost, just fought.

Stand in the gap

Stand in the gap,

When they want to force you to take up an extreme, refuse.

When they want to you to be polarised, refuse.

When they want you to ignore the complexities and conundrums of life, refuse.

Instead stand in the gap where the real people stand.

Where the people who do not want to be pushed or defined by others insecurities and obsessions stand.

Stand where the subtle colours shift and shine, where the deep and generous patterns flow.

Stand with the thinkers and dreamers, the survivors and strugglers, the lovers and yearners, the busy and distracted, the confused and the searching, the poets and the prophets.

Plant your feet in the shifting sand and stand with the ordinary and extraordinary.

Stand while the edges shout their insults and slogans, their extremism and their intransigence.

Stand whilst they shout themselves to a deafened standstill in their fear and their anger.

Stand in the place of humility and love,

Stand in the place of unknown adventure,

Stand in the place of wonder and expectation,

Stand in the place of the God of desert and river, of exile and pilgrimage, of birth and rebirth, of love and sacrifice.

Stand as an invitation to others to stand there too.

Morning ice

Inhaling shallow chill,

Caught as my insides rebel,

And refuse to accept the air.

Rushing carefully, cautious speed,

Learning to move again,

On crystallised black top.

Limbs confused unable to adjust,

Brain disconnected in the cold.

Move quickly losing endings,

Sensations fade from sting,

Numb pain sucking in.

Dash, don’t dash.

Breathe, don’t breathe.

Cracking doors offering refuge,

Shiver building from below,

Endure the uncontrollable,

Waiting for it to fade,

With the hoped for relief,

Slow breeding warm,

Lungs welcoming,

Digits screaming,

Forehead drumming,

Blood daring to flow,

Pause.

I can’t write today…

I can’t write today,

I want to, I feel I should have something to say,

but everytime I try,

there too many shouts, too many voices that cry,

my head is saturated,

my brain and my spirit over stimulated,

depth is so hard to find,

when the day has filled and flooded my mind,

I’ve made mistakes,

pressed down the accelerator instead of the brakes,

I’ve spoken out of turn,

when my place was to hear and then to learn,

But the day has been rich,

Full of wisdom, ideas and thoughts which,

leave me struggling for something to say,

So, I’m sorry the truth is I can’t write today.

God who is misunderstood

God who is misunderstood,

May we find our understanding in you.

May others judge us for being too kind, and condemn us for giving too much.

Let people look at us and laugh at what fools we are for exposing our brokenness,

And dismiss us as idiots for caring, for risking everything to see another smile.

May they ridicule us for our tears and rubbish us for our bleeding hearts.

Lord, as they stare and point because we refuse to worship the god of self, and won’t bow down to appease the god of greed, may we look up and smile contented.

May love be our downfall in the eyes of those who look at us, and peace be our weakness.

Let those who attack us do it because we stand undefended, and because we welcome them for who they are.

May our homes be not our own and our lives a gift to others even when they show no respect or gratitude.

When we hand over the things we value and give away what we have worked for may we welcome the grabbing hands.

Lord, when you take what you have given us to offer someone else, help us trust in your wisdom for their sake.

May we find our understanding in you,

God who is misunderstood.

Friends

Through the pleated folded shroud,

My personal projection,

I look upon the polished crowd.

Souls with a connection.

To seek a ricochet of me,

See an image bouncing back,

to paint my picture primary,

In contrast to the black.

More richly saturated,

Not my tired and beaten frame,

No more worn or torn or faded,

By doubts I chose to name.

A dream that flutters, spins, wheels,

Blown by the mornings cast,

Try to catch it, grasp the real,

hold on and make it fast.

And if I look at them I see,

If I can only dare,

The best of who I’m made to be,

A future me we share.

(Nb. Rhyme is really not my strong point!)

Hope

Hope burning heart,

Bones clamping tight,

Holding, binding, trapping,

The fear of loss,

greater than grief itself,

The fear of chaos,

Mutes the music,

deadens the beat,

Inside it fades,

Dying notes flatten and sink,

Squeezed of all life,

Dimming spark,

Down,

falling,

Captive hope evaporating,

In the dark the dog barks,

A familiar sound,

Echoing in the hole,

where hope once lived,

The hope that died because it could not dance,

Because it was not thrown into the chaos,

To spin and leap,

To weave new moves,

To trace fresh paths,

To make wild shapes,

To cast and lead rebirth,

Hope does not fear the dance,

Hope does not fear the chaos.

Hope cannot be bound.

Prayer for peace and strength

Peace and strength are one,

We are weakest when pain and hurt rule,

When our minds are pulled and pushed by the cruelty of others,

When anger is the energy that moves and drives us,

When shame and guilt are the lenses through which we view life,

When insecurity drains our ability to see how beautiful we are,

When we walk in fear of what will happen around each coming corner,

When we see only loss ahead and live for what we do not have,

When frustration for what hasn’t been flows fast in our veins,

Peace and strength are one,

We are most powerful when our spirits can be still.

When we find our true self in it’s imperfection,

When we gain a new understanding of deep beauty,

When we meet those who only add to us,

When we feel our feet solid upon the world we walk in,

When we banish the judgement of others and know divine grace,

When we can grieve and feel loss, but not allow it kill our hope,

When we learn how to stop and simply be who we were made to be.

Peace and strength are one.

Peace is my prayer.