A Poem: Afternoon

Is heaven a long summer’s afternoon? Does it sound like cicada’s singing, insects, the brush of leaf upon leaf. The occasional bird calling, the rest stilled by the sun’s heat. Is heaven the sun falling below the pine’s crowns, shining through their needles a lacework pattern. Is it grass, under leaves still spring green, and … More A Poem: Afternoon

A Poem: Memory

Water holds memory and shape. It is absorbing, absolving, forgiving. It is like a friend that receives us as we are. Adjusting to our form, making space, but still encompassing us, with a weight that lifts us up upon itself. It is whole apart from us, but is generous and accommodating. Transparent but substantial in … More A Poem: Memory

A Poem: Dying

You are dying every day a little more. Each day you plant your feet from bed, solid on the bedroom floor, you have died a little in your sleep, and your solidity belies the fact a part of you has left. Each day is a journey on, making pieces of your patch-worked quilt – your … More A Poem: Dying

A Poem: Suspended

There are so many things that keep us abreast, that can lift us and carry us through. Today for me, it was the long note of a tune suspended in the light, and the way one note followed the other, as waves do upon a beach, constant and consistent. Yes, one friend talks about the … More A Poem: Suspended

A Poem: Circles

I want to draw a wide circle, wider than my hurt, wider than the grudges I feed and fuel. For when the heart is aggrieved we feel ourselves so small, boxed into corners framed by self-made walls. When the heart is aggrieved we draw our circles in, each tending to our wounded-ness alone. And if … More A Poem: Circles

A Poem: Re-Worked

What if we were wrong and the aim is not to grow, or at least not to perfect ourselves, as pots hardened in a kiln. What if we were to expand instead, and then crack slowly open. What if we made to break, and start again. What if to shatter, just now and again, felt … More A Poem: Re-Worked

A Poem: Willing

I make a world without you, an identity apart from you, and you humble me to bend the knee, to kneel and spread my hands. What good is everything, insubstantial, apart from your blessing, without you to tie it together, to imbue it with the colours and form of your name, your grace. And so … More A Poem: Willing

A Poem: Water

I think I remember last time, you didn’t hear my prayer, so I hesitate to trust. Sometimes, when we have done all we can, we need you to carry the rest, without spilling a drop. But sometimes, even you, let it overflow. And so I ask, what are the odds this time that I can … More A Poem: Water