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.

they were not my lights

Sitting in the deepest dark,
the competing lights begin to fade,
for months they’ve blinded me,
they’ve spun and flashed to distract me,
they’ve teased me with their glamour,
calling like the sirens, but,
they were not my lights.

they beckoned nonetheless,
too often I have reached for them,
not wanting to miss out on the fun,
not wanting to be left outside,
they looked so beguiling,
a dancing spectrum of life, but,
they were not my lights.

they promised me good times,
told me they’d help me forget,
they promised me a new start,
offered me security, identity,
an illusion of importance,
seeking to seduce me, but,
they were not my lights.

Sitting in the deepest dark,
my eyes began to open,
I saw others sitting there,
in the stillness we drew in,
we spoke in empty silence,
of the lights that tempted, but,
they were not our lights.

As we looked together in the dark,
and told each painful story,
with only grace in common,
we faced the empty space,
the smallest spark was kindled,
my spirit began to wonder, if,
this could be my light?