Blessed are the peacemakers. Those to whom the choice is clear. Forget the fence, and trying so hard to walk it. The ones who choose peace, see no walls to erect or scale. The things which would divide fade in their import, compared to love, and its far reaching hospitality. Blessed are those whose cause … More A Poem: The Peacemakers

I don’t receive you by being you. If difference is to be respected, then so should mine. If difference is to be recognised, it is because we do not blend, but stand out backlit so we shine. I receive you best by being me. This heart shaped to hold yours. This depository of sorts, like … More A Poem: Difference

Love is stronger. Water is a drop, on its own, insubstantial and as ethereal as dew fallen on grass. Almost weightless, its translucent form at half a gram, hardly bears our notice. At a spit we hardly register it, a handful we raise our face to feel the grace of its caress. Its pressure, finally … More A Poem: Love is Stronger

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

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

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

I wonder, is God a God of rules, and rituals, and certain ways of doing things? There is place for tradition, and practices that give symbolism, and meaning to what is important. But I think that God, who is Being, calls us to respond in the same vein. Behold, we come at the prompting of … More A Poem: Re-imagining

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

My friends talk about the sun. How it hangs, and rises and sets. It is as though this sun, and its daily returning light, is a deity by which we see everything. My friends capture the sun, in a word, a camera’s lens, in a moment’s paused breath. It’s as though this remembrance is a … More A Poem: Talking about the Sun

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