Incomplete

I am poet without a poem

Song without any voice.

Breath breathing out and in

In stillness I rejoice.

I am feet without a path,

Prayer whose hands can’t clasp.

Whispering I cannot shout

That which I scarcely grasp.

I am tears in eyes too dry,

Laughter without a sound.

Yet, though I scarcely walk,

I go the whole world round.

I am the might-have-been.

I am the yet-to-be;

Waiting to be complete,

Tuned to Christ’s harmony

And the sun shall warm them

And the sun shall warm them,

And the cold of night embrace them

Down to the very bones,

The skittering, chittering skeleton,

Of whom we have no fear.

And the grass shall grow, wild and free,

And the mountains stand in all their solemn majesty;

While the small streams laugh at their folly

And the birds sing

A tune for every hour:

And everywhere a holy place

Under a sheltering sky.

Let us be unafraid

Of the burden of mortality:

The fading and the slowing,

And the terror of the dark.

For we are held and carried

By one who went before us,

Who bears us in his palm prints

And never lost one yet.

And beyond is only love

Birthing dreams

Beyond the futile dream, reality

Breaks through the mist, sword-sharp, and spear-tip bright.

Life with hard edges knocks against the soft

Of hope unfounded on the solid light.

A dream is not enough, unless we wake

Still holding fast, and bear it into day,

And plant it in this bitter, frost-bound earth,

And let the burning sunshine have its way.

And water it with tears, such tears as fall

From the deep sorrow of all that we are,

The toil of laboured hearts, till sweet-winged grace

Purges the stones and rips apart the scar

Of all our digging. Then the fresh-turned earth

Sings a new song, a melody of light;

And dreams become our wings, and raise us up

To shine into a world that’s steeped in night.

Prayer for Truth

Oh keep me truth and not a lie

The while I live, the while I die

Upon this sweet and broken earth

Where tears are mingled with our mirth.

Oh light more fierce than any sun,

That beams upon us, one by one,

Give honesty to every breath

For dark untruth is always death.

And when I speak, as speak I must,

May my words rise above this dust;

Truth, like a sheer, transforming flame

Shall burn away the dross and shame.

The deepest truth is charity

In which alone our hope can be.

On Listening to the Agnus Dei

The music swells and fades, the sin goes on,

And who can profit from so dark a thing?

How shall we bear? But he has borne it all,

The Lamb of God who takes our every sin.

And all the world, and all the world he takes,

To bear the world’s vast agony away.

The sin of all the world? How shall we count

Its measure, who have built it every day?

Give us your peace, not ours. Ours is too small:

The peace of butterflies and sunbeams’ dance.

We need your peace, peace that endures all things.

This is our hope, this is our only chance.

The Wind Blows

The wind blows.

Hard and fast, against the shutters of our minds,

The wind blows.

“Holy, Holy …” it whispers

And we shun the dereliction

Of our slow-dissolving dreams.

The wind blows.

The wind blows.

Whirling the dust of our foundations

Into dervish shapes, chanting the walls will fall.

The wind blows,

Hard and fast, shattering, destroying,

The wind blows.

The wind blows.

Roots of our world reversed,

Outcry of angels,

The wind blows.

Wind that we cannot see, cannot name,

Wind we cannot contain,

The wind blows.

The wind blows:

Oh my soul, my soul!

Turned inside out,

Cringing from blazing light.

The wind blows,

Blows us over

Again and again, as fast as we can build,

The wind blows.

The wind blows,

Somersaulting the world

And every breath cries holy!

The wind blows.

Suddenly Spring!

Suddenly Spring! And the blossom trees

Lift up their hands in praise;

The flowers

Sharpen their colours,

 Magpies swoop and sweep

Carolling the morning with their echoed cries.

Suddenly Spring! And the new leaves

Peep from their buds,

Waiting the kiss of sun;

Cockatoos graze

On the seeding grass – little sheep with a comical habit

And feathers white as wool.

Suddenly Spring! Earth moves with subtle mirth,

The air has changed its flavour – mild and warm;

The crested pigeon pecks at his reflection

Like the plastic bird that dips its head in water,

Then flies away, away on whistling wings.

Suddenly Spring! Winter’s cold heart is banished,

The witch is dead, the Lion rules again.

Tremble your gladness – listen to the whisper

Murmuring through the golden, light-laced air,

Oh bend your heart to hear it:

Resurrection!

(The promise with us until Kingdom comes)