Tuesday 30 June 2009

Ravens come

Ravens come (1 Kings 17 v 1-5)

A piece of peace
separate, whole, a shelter.
Here is that healing calm
haven for the tormented tortured soul
an ointment on the wound
shade from stinging heat
and the quiet place.

The ravenous wind prowls outside
the quakes of life are just out of reach
and the glittering of storms do not penetrate.

Ravens come,
laden with their offerings of bread.

The journey to find this place
leaves littered baggage in its wake,
sprawling the used clothes
and worn shoes
battle wounded on the path.
Parting with unfriendly comfortable chains
sears with fear
stabs fingers in holed unhealed scars
grasps and releases nettled yesterdays.

Stabbed and bleeding,
naked, robbed, blinded
and accused
here, only here
the small voice is heard.

But this place is not the world,
nor is this place home,
this place is not tomorrow
but a shelter in today.

Ravens come,
laden with their offerings of bread.
‘We’ll be back.’
Say the ravens.

‘I’ll always be here.’
Says the small,
refreshing, voice.

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