I’d lost the people I loved. In the midst of the daily decisions and jaw-clenching nightly invocation, all the notable ones were scarce and silent. Anger, sadness, and pain rolled around my vital organs and stuttered my speech meditating on thoughts of misdeeds and words misspoken that persisted in my mind. Here lies life, the new day begets another. This solemn song is sung in chorus in palliative waiting rooms, tall stories forgotten and oft-loved ones replaced by diagnostic faces – with wry, stale smiles. A hand lies upon them, hemmed in front and behind, an eye for an ego, release in freedom lie.
Down well-trodden trail
a chasm opens beneath
gazing down dreamily
the worlds of ancients meet
look down at all the hours and days
the rhymes, signs and verses
words and tokens exchanged
The earth envelopes it
cast down to what lies beneath
all those endless numbered days
those staunch and bending ways
Now only soft firm ground lies
sighs gingerly between my feet
abundance of life groans
all around me
but yet I am still and quiet
longing for tomorrow once more
Featured image: Twig Bench by Alexia Wedding on Pinterest
All I long for is communitas
Missio Dei a valid task
How long, O Lord, can I sustain
‘Clock face made by convicts – hospital for the insane’ Willow Court New Norfolk, Tasmania.
“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
― Beryl Markham, West with the Night
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“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
― Kahlil Gibran
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“We’re going all the way ’til the wheels fall off and burn.”
― Bob Dylan
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“You made me happy and you made me laugh, and if I could do it all over again, I would not hesitate. Look at our life, at the trips we took, the adventures we had. As your father used to say, we shared the longest ride together, this thing called life, and mine has been filled with joy because of you.”
― Nicholas Sparks, The Longest Ride
Reflecting heaven’s light
captured by stillness in breath
obscuring the shallow beneath
stones settle buried at rest
It’s the things that aren’t said that hurt the most.
I can hear the tower clock chime from my pillow
It is the only constant I hear.
But even this clock;
I envy the care and attention
it receives for its restoration.
I hope to have its constancy at heart.
‘O Holy Spirit, as the sun is full of light, the ocean full of water,
Heaven full of glory, so may my heart be full of thee.’
– The Valley of Vision
Vast and free twirling round
gazing down on a breadth of seas
For ancients’ sake boulders quake
and spread their plume and fume
in pillows of magnetic blue.
All this time we knew you
a firm sphere of life
revolution all around you
and yet it is not all
who tremble as you shake,
lie in your wake.
We’re one and all reliant on
the One source.
These heavenly bodies
are not far from it.
Constancy in our distance,
we stay our path, in safety.
No freedom flier
but remain, obey, rely.
One solstice past
an emergency flight path.
We cannot wish to undo
or change our place
for all order that surrounds
and lies floating in chaotic wait
will unleash their quiet laden weight.
Best to gaze on star’s light from afar.
I love all the unseen things about you
I wait for them to make themselves known
a word, a look, a gesture, a smile
a gift of Love – one treasure I own.
When I stand before the body, in the flesh
I am confused. It’s You that I miss.
I respond in words I don’t understand
I lose part of myself in this.
Waiting for the unseen,
the centre of our being
to come forward again
In the Spring.
When you play, your work, your dream
it is there – the unseen
making music in my ears
as sweet as a song of songs.
Sweet fruit. Spring flush
Eat, dear friends, and drink your fill of love¹
The days were Made for this.
The season of singing has come.²
Love stronger than death
burns like a Mighty fire
Many waters cannot quench
Nor rivers sweep it away.³
By day the Lord directs his love,
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life. –Psalm 42:8
¹Song of Songs 5:1
²Song of Songs 2:12
³Song of Songs 8:6-7
Image source: ‘Looking through the trees to the stream’ by John Groves