I can sit like a stone thing.Neutral, still,against which the wind moves. Can wait until everything openingappears underfoot,or through the bows of outspread branches. Or I can walk,not quite expectant,but ready anyway. And not trying too hard to discern directions.But seeing what comesof corners and thresholds. Yes, I can walk like a figure moving,beckoned forwardby … More A Poem: Waiting for the Birds

I know beauty by how she loved me, joy by how she hollowed out a place to plant herself,that when I was bereft of her,her seeds had shedto grow another day in me. I know tenderness by how I was loved, peace by how the ache in my heart becomesa chest of remembrance,from which I … More A Poem: Grieving Beauty

God is the one in us who rises upin the morning,taking shape, and moves. And like the morning mistdisperses,turning colourdepending how the sun hits. Taking on a hue of gold,or the rich red russetof leaves. Or God is a tree, or the trees herestanding like beaconsall aflame, and we are the mistlit by the sun,and … More A Poem: Colours

Darkness is simply an absence of light.Everything is still here. The bed with its hard cornerto be felt around.The soft chair that takes all our weight. The lounge and the kitchen,the switch of the kettle.The warmth of cup in hand. Darkness is a blanket,filled sometimes with false premonitionsand fears that need darkness to survive. But … More A Poem: Absence

When I am in the garden pulling weeds,green shoots of grass that keep setting their seeds in the garden bed, my life finds me. When I am in the kitchen cooking,or at the table, where puzzle pieces laid out by childrentalk to me with their varied colours,pink, blue and green, my life finds me. When … More A Poem: Lingering

Can we truly save anyone? We might only lose ourselvesin the trying. Any saving that asks for the sheddingof ourselves – in small piecesto shore up another – is not salvation, so muchas a sad slow fading of light at the day’s conclusion. Whereas love, love given, sometimes in no measurable meansother than the ache … More A Poem: Seeds

By Ana Lisa de Jong Ah poetry, that anyone takes you seriously. Or presumes to understand. That you are completely rightand utterly wrong in the one breath, makes you so human and divine,both. And that is what we love about you,that you can’t be tamed. That everything that needs to be spelled out,is not poetry. … More Poetry – A Quartet

God inhabits all his creation,that he is our mother, father, sister, brother.That in him we are birthed, tended,nurtured, surrounded by the rushof familial love. And in him are raised.Mothered, as the pup with eyes closed,knowing the weight of a warm flank,tongue and breath upon our wet coat,the teat for drawing nourishment. And fathered in the … More A Poem: Inhabitation

Who can decideon what is lost?When we sanctify itin the memoryit is a part of us. As the stars that do not diebut instead hang in the sky,as more than remembranceand a light in the dark – but as a clear andshining testamentto love. Who can decide thenon what is gone, or knowwhat is etched … More A Poem: Starlight