Acceptance (after Schubert)

Here falling leaves

Drop,

Drop,

A coverlet of peace

On summer’s weariness.

We have a need of Autumn.

And here, where winter

Barely takes its turn,

We seek our rest

Before the upswing comes;

The giddy cycle

Growing shorter every year.

Let us give thanks,

Here in darkness,

Claiming peace before light comes:

When we are uprooted

There is treasure underneath.

Listening to Schubert

No pillow for your head, no rest on earth,

The broken heart can find no bandage here;

But a rich vein of beauty opens wide,

And a sweet stream of loveliness sings clear.

No haunting night of devils and fell things

Holds you entire, another siren song,

Born from translucent joy, gives spirit wings

And touches glory all the while you long.

Therefore embrace through feared mortality

Love is its own reward, though your self breaks;

For we are broken that love may come in

And give far more the very while it takes.

And though such tears may spring, and endless spring

From the deep rupture of our loneliness,

Love still! Embrace the sharpened blade! Its sting

Is mercy’s rescue from our fruitlessness.

We sing the songs of ashen pilgrimage

With fumbling lips and throats parched raw with pain,

But where our voices fail, the angels take

Our prayers, and garnish them with hope again.

These are the Ones

Here is the time, here is the place.

These are the ones that need our grace:

These are the ones washed up on bitter shores.

These are the ones whose tears and pain

Drown in the unrelenting rain:

These are the ones whose hands reach out in vain.

These are the ones who haunt our dreams,

We block our ears against their screams:

These have no home upon the bountied earth.

These are the ones we cast aside,

(We are the great self-justified):

These who are out of sight are out of mind.

These are the ones we cannot face

As we deny our common race:

We turn our backs but cannot flee the shame.

These are the ones we put on hold,

Each with a soul more dear than gold:

Thus is our birthright cheaply bought and sold.

These are the ones – Lord hear their cries!

Silence our cold, pathetic lies:

Let there be justice for the least of these!

These are the ones, and we are they

Who took their human rights away:

Lord, let your kingdom come today!

Iona

Let your word be as fire to my heart,

Fire to my bones.

Let your word rinse clean my soul

And restore my spirit,

Give wings to my breath

And iron to my will.

Let my feeble lips proclaim it

And my feeble fingers write it.

Let it burn through the world a restoring flame,

Till all creation is renewed.

For the light shines in the darkness

And the darkness has not overcome it.

It shines still.

Cowardice and ignorance,

The preference for the easy way,

Have not overcome it. 

It shines still.

Murder and cruelty,

Pillage and ferocity

The careless violence of violent men,

Blood shed upon blood

Have not overcome it.

It shines still.

The seduction of plenty,

The greed of our fear,

The applause of men

And the lure of cheap power

Have not overcome it.

It shines still.

And the prayers of the ages are a river of deep grace.

They did not come walking on water.

They came as men come

In a coracle, a boat:

Riding the waves into history.

Flesh and blood, flesh and blood,

And lamps for God to burn in,

Carrying, in their smallness,

The weight of all the Word.

They came in sorrow and penitence

And found work that was worthy of their hands.

They came in long self-doubting

And built in solid rock.

They came through storm and passion

And brought eternal peace.

Let us be as they were,

Quivering with truth

Alight with love

Welded to Christ by fire

In a bond that cannot be broken.

Let us be as they were

The dead reborn alive

Seeking no kingdom of our own

In love with our King forever.

Let us be as they were

Holding no weapons in our hands

Learning to be crucified

In little daily things

So that we might love forever.

Let us enter the furnace of God’s love.

At Smethstow

I said my prayers today
Where coppered trees bend low
Above the clear brown stream:
This beauty I can know.

I saw my Saviour’s love
In every tender flower:
Caressing every leaf,
Sustaining hour by hour.

The blackbird sang his praise
In notes so pure and clear.
So teach my heart to sing
To him I hold most dear.

And, on the shadowed path
Midst green and growing things,
I worshipped in quiet awe;
My soul, like swans, had wings.

During theLong Haul Flight

 This juddering silence,

Wood between the worlds,

The strange, soft outage to be part of this,

This javelin, thrust high into the sky

By some vast hero, brute, mechanical,

This twilight of unbeing in the air.

This is the place where many are each one

Alone in solitary semi-night

Alone, alone as each one is alone

In birth and death and in their secret heart.

I cannot count the meaning of these things .

With the odd clarity that stupor brings

I breathe and wait,

Or simply wait and breathe,

Awake yet dreaming, counting down the time,

With the distraction of this rambling verse

Too slow?too fast? How every minute crawls

The while that life ticks by relentlessly

Lines Written on a PolishTrain

(after seeing a little golden statue of a duck with a crown)

Let the crowned ducks flame with gold!
Let them flame in jubilation!
Let the sparrows sing hosanna
In dulcet tones of joy!
Let the mighty dance begin!

Let the hedgerows flowerbrilliance,
Let the forests gleam with life,
Letthe trodden grass spring up in exaltation,
And the wilderness grow green!

Let the flocks gather, in a torrent of wings,
Mightywings beating, while swans and eagles gather
To dance upon the air!

Let there be music!
Let the squirrels find a song
And the rabbits’feet drum rhythm,
Letthe small birds raise their voices
With the clarity of wonder!

Let the winds lift them, lift them
Into the sky, open unto forever!
Letthe sunlight laugh to receive them,
Let the rain murmur a blessing,
Let the heart be free to finally let go!
Let the crowned ducks flame with gold!