Thursday, 17 March 2016

Thursday, the road continues

The road continues.
The path beyond the palm strewn entrance,
the angry violence of the temple courts,
to the stone steps of an upper room:
the welcome of an open door,
anxious friends,
and a celebration of the past
which becomes the future.
The bright sun of Sunday
burnt up in an instant
prepared, ordained,
schemed and planned
in eternity.
Yet the storm cloud of rejection
hides behind the horizon,
darkening with the coming of night,
gathering momentum,
undertone to the celebration.

The gentle washing
of the dusty day from feet
as we enter a womb of refuge
and the door closes.

A cup of wine refreshes
and begins its anaesthesia.
The camaraderie
of friends and brothers
journeys conversations;
banter begins its camouflage
and smiles seep into the fear.

Another cup of wine
and the breaking of bread
the safe familiarity
of Passover;
the security of history,
the illusion of a future.

And the storm cloud of rejection
darkens the coming of night,
gathering momentum,
on another page.

Wednesday, 27 January 2016

Holocaust day 2016

History began before I was born;
before air struck the gong of life
into my insignificant life.
Millennia, centuries, decades, years
wrote pages of experience
in chapters we choose to ignore
or pass as fantasy
belonging in parallel universes
and otherworlds.

We mark the anniversaries
with blindness
as the remembrances of others
fade with their dying.

But our world, formed in love,
is tainted and defiled
by pen and sword
and the executions
of bigots.
And on this day.
THIS day,
we celebrate life,
and the opportunity
fail again.

To those who make decisions;
to those who pedal death,
street-sellers of hate and mistrust,
I bequeath history your nightmare
from which you cannot awaken.

Thursday, 21 January 2016

In absentia

I wrap my eyes with your image.
I close them and my eyelids filter you,
for you are not here.
My eyes fill
with emptiness
until the water flows.
I wrap my hands with your blouse;
its textures lie
for you are not within.
My hands fill
with emptiness,
a snake skin discard.
So I wrap myself around your neck
close as my favourite necklace
and kiss you goodnight
with absent lips.
Missing you.

Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Advent (deep calls to deep)

Advent  (deep calls to deep)

Deep calls to deep
the imprint of God upon the ghost of spirit,
a watermark in virgin paper,
a tincture of a whisper
from creation’s nativity.
We too bring gifts to the child –
the twisted gold tinsel
crown for a king,
fragrant candle
for a deity,
the romantic fairytale
an antiseptic for reality.
This is a death and entrance,
a lower case alpha and omega,
the bracketed phrase
in the sentence of eternity.
This is no stable
mucked out and sterile
but God among
the droppings
of mankind.

from 'Advent Oddessy' my book of Christmas related poetry 

Monday, 2 November 2015

A broken vessel

A broken vessel.

Made whole
these are not the scars of damage
but the rejoice of healing,
golden veins of repair -
the signature of God exposed.

Changed yet unchanged
the past is celebrated,
history revealed,
identity retained.

The beauty of the broken -
more valuable in restoration,
more beautiful
for being broken.

Kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending broken pottery by filling the cracks with amalgam mixed with powdered gold.    Kintsugi  is translated as “golden joinery.”

Saturday, 24 December 2011

Monday, 25 April 2011

and then.....

The tomb disclosed,
in brightest day,
the boundary
of yesterday
The greetings of angels,
the fear of mystery,
the meeting of a man
who is not a man.
More fear
and another greeting
and the breath
of eternity
enters frightened souls.