• Blog,  Poem,  Poetry

    Precious, the words spoken in love

    She spoke your name today. Precious, the words spoken in love. They were conceived in her heart, Grew within, And were given life through her lips.   The new born words fell, Gently from her mouth, In all but silent compassion.   Fell, but did not hit the floor. Words spoken in love never do; They are too precious, As you are precious.   And so the new born words of your name, Floated above the ground. And as she looked upon them, She saw her prayer for you.   They floated, For a second only, Before, Rising,   High, High, High,   Carried by love, To love itself; Into…

  • Blog,  Poem

    Plankectomy- the removal of one’s own plank…

    Inspired by Luke 6:39-42…   Planks are curious things Huge, yet invisible To the self-delusional Hypocritical Eye of… well all of us At some time Or another   Planks that bind to us And blind us To our own wee foibles (Big ones too) And yet provide us With a line to aim Down, straight To the perceived faults of others Splinters, of course   But…   Planks Seem to have A kind of magnificatory Ability To lead us to the sin Of diagnosis (Seeing the bad And need to change) Of those with splinters Without first, gently And honestly Performing surgery On ourselves A ‘plankectomy’ if you will  …

  • Blog,  Poem,  Poetry

    Doubting the Son

    I love coming across a verse that I wrote years ago- a verse that didn’t quite go anywhere- a verse waiting for another verse or two. This poem is an example of that. I wrote 8 lines of this poem 6 years ago and rediscovered them on this the Feast of St Thomas who is known as Doubting Thomas. It was lovely to complete the poem. I offer it for anyone who has fallen int difficult times and who might find it hard to believe that times can and will be better…   Doubting the Son   Sometimes the rain falls And I can do nothing at all But put…

  • Blog,  Poem,  Poetry

    World Refugee Day 2020- I Don’t Care?

    I DON’T CARE? I want to say it So loud that it shatters glass And eardrums burst And hearts break I DON’T CARE   It is the only response The only one That can be true To the ancient path, the original script   I DON’T CARE   In proper use It expresses so well (not apathy at all) An honest disregard For anything That gets in the way Of love, joy and mercy   Try it out:   “They’re foreigners”- I DON’T CARE! I’m glad they’re here “They’re begging”- I DON’T CARE! If I wasn’t so lucky, I could be there too “They’re not like us”- I DON’T CARE!…

  • Blog,  Poem,  Poetry

    The Heart of the Cross

      The wound at the heart of the cross: It bore Truth and Peace cruelly It took Goodness and Love to death Injustice has wounded it deeply   But Goodness and Love do not die Truth and Peace live eternally The wound at the heart of the cross: Sacred Heart we entrust all to thee   (The God of surprises at work, perhaps. I found this amazing piece of wood in my workshop this morning. Its shape and grain, along with the deep wound at its core, seemed to speak to me of the feast day today- The Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. You can see and/or purchase crosses I…

  • Blog,  Poem,  Poetry,  Prayer and Reflections

    A Boat for a Heart all at Sea- a tribute to our NHS heroes

    I spent my day today making this little carving. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I spent A LOT of my day today making it. I did some other things too. One of those things was to spend a couple of hours with a group of NHS workers who tend to the most vulnerable people in our society, often caring for them through to their deaths. These guys are heroes. I have the privilege of leading them in some mindfulness and meditation, focusing on keeping them together as they go about their work that often sees them all at sea, working in systems that are complex and doing work that is…

  • Blog,  Poem,  Poetry

    Ascending

    I climbed the mountain But he ascended As I watched in wonder and awe   With him he took All of my worries And hurts and sorrow and more   Every bruise to my soul And mistake I’ve made Rose high on the warm air   All my wrong steps And every tear I’ve shed Floated upwards till they weren’t there   He took them all To be with him And for angels and saints to see   When he had gone What he left behind Was plain and simple: me 

  • Blog,  Poem,  Poetry

    Jump On (for those who carry us through)

    No-one can be totally self-sufficient. I believe we are built to be with others. It is hard-wired into our DNA and expressed in families, friendships, romantic love and acts of great selflessness and generosity. I know that there have been moments in my life when I couldn’t have made it though without the help of others. Their help, love, encouragement and support live on in my memory and in my heart. I believe them to have been expressions of divine love (even if the giver of the support didn’t know or believe that themselves!).  In these days of pandemic with all of its subsequent worry, fear, trauma and even death…

  • Blog,  Poem

    A Home For Hope

    I was asked to write a poem on the theme of hope for the Focolare Movement’s United World Week 2020. It strikes me that hope is a risky business these days when the dominant narratives can be all about despair. It begged the question of me, ‘do I dare to hope?’ Here is the resulting poem.    A Home For Hope We are in an upper room Doors locked for fear Of infection Prisoners of pandemic distance The future itself seeming more distant Than ever   Dare we hope?   In these times of lockdown And meltdown We hear Hope has no home here And Hope has no home here…

  • Blog,  Poem,  Poetry

    Good Friday- A Mother’s Call

    Judea: It was a quiet day. Birds called and life went on. Who would have thought, On such a day that Blood could flow, The veil could be torn in two, The earth could shake, The tomb could await its faultless guest?   Here: It is a peaceful day. Birds call and old folk rest at home Shakily but happily. Young folk labour where they can, Making ends meet. Who would think, On such a day that Suffering continues, Blood flows, Women and men die both Peacefully and in torment?   Judea: Trial ended, The path, the Via Dolorosa,   The way of suffering. Walked as they tore at His…

error

Enjoy this blog? Please spread the word!