A Poem: Sacrilege

The evening is still and perfect hushed, but for a bird or a singing cricket, breaking the silence. Unearthly, this silence which, like a funeral shroud has fallen. Has laid its blanket wide, that any sound from man or beast seems out of place. A smudge has marred the landscape. A black mark not like … More A Poem: Sacrilege

A Poem: Darkness

And there was evening and there was morning. The first day. If something is decreed like the shadows falling, the light departing we need not fear it, or retreat from its appearance. As the dark has a certain softness that the blinding day hasn’t, a sort of Hallowed Eve, in which we take our solace. … More A Poem: Darkness

A Poem: The Body

It is said that we cannot move, or breathe without some wind stirring a star somewhere. I think that must be how prayer works. That in the moment that I conjure you up, your help is on its way. Perhaps abit like Chinese whispers, a bird might tell an angel, whose wings then brush a … More A Poem: The Body

A Poem: Heart

A poem for Lent If I were to empty my heart it would spill. I’m not sure if the drawbridge once opened would close. I’m not sure if this heart is prepared yet for Lent. Until Lent recalls to me, how the heart is wooed and welcomed, until in trust it relents. Its openings exposed … More A Poem: Heart

A Poem: Pregnant

Space is not empty. Space is pregnant, with possibility. The space we give each other, the more expansive it is, the more we are committed to preserving it, the more the space gives room for flourishing, the more a space gives a place for truth. The more we allow each other a place to grieve, … More A Poem: Pregnant

A Poem: Hello

‘Oh, Hello morning. That you come round again to visit, is always a thing of wonder to me.’ And in return you say, ‘Hello Soul. Its time to wake and wear your colours, like me. Not the same as yesterday, but a flourish here and there, as new paints arrived in the post, opened and … More A Poem: Hello

A Poem: Loose

Did this garden ask anything of me? Planted it only sought the light and nourishment of life. It only inclined towards the North to where the sun burned warmest. Without my taming solicitous hand it grows and thrives. And I stand blessed to watch, and I stand small here, underneath. Does life ask anything of … More A Poem: Loose