Tag: Poetry

Lent

“Look after yourself”, they say,

“have some you time!”

In the solitude the noise only amplifies,

The loneliness born in the night swells in the emptiness.

Scratching at the raw earth, fingertips crying for contact,

Wild sounds filling the vocal gap.

Deep into the desert.

Deep into the wild place.

Where I am supposed to find myself,

At least that’s what they say!

Maybe they’re right,

Maybe there will be a sound

Deep within,

A sound that makes some sense.

Behind my competing stories,

Beneath it all.

Maybe not,

Maybe this serves only to prove to me my need for another,

Even others.

Maybe that is what I need to learn?

Maybe that is what I need to find?

Maybe that is why I’m here?

Maybe soon I’ll know.

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.

Stand, still.

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.

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,

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.