Thursday, 29 March 2018

Hope 2018

There comes a word
To break small-stoned silence accumulating in the soul
A whispered word, wisdom-filled
For you

There comes an image
That is not self-filled, ego-driven or face-less
It is faith-filled, faithful and evergreen through the seasons
For you

There comes a sound
Swelling from the depths eternity-covered
Pitch-perfect, shame-lifting with each beat in time
For you

Thursday, 4 January 2018

The fire falls

The fire falls and burns behind eyes, within hands
Not long now until the chapter ends and the seal is opened?
And with Inequity unleashed, Justice’s heart will be devoured
O Mercy will weep at such a sight -
Sorrow carrying her young and burying them one by one
In the ancient earth
She will fall silent - no lament or praise to hail this new dawn

The Advent sign was not what we imagined -
Blackness yielding eternity from Time’s beating breast
It took such an age for this coming
Long-awaited, baited-breath, storm-stilled at last
The whirlwind reaped leaving landscapes bereft
Signs of life ripped up and just vanished

O Mercy, Sorrow and Justice
Bowed witnesses, foreheads kissing dust

O Love, to behold beauty born of a woman’s seed
And the perfection of completeness
No incantation accompanied this incarnation
Just silent-night wondering and a heartbeat buried so deep
In eternity bursting into smoke-filled air
With a cry to quench the fiercest of fires
And divide death’s domain in two forever

Sarah Larkin, Advent 2016 and 2017

Saturday, 6 May 2017

The bridegroom is at the door

Such a long wait in the dark
Lamplight and love
Fuel for the fire of longing 

For Him to arrive

How long?
Tired eyes anxiously looking

At how much oil is left
To keep the lamp lit

What is that sound?
A midnight cry: 
'Here's the bridegroom! 
Come out to meet him!' 

At last to come in
But O what is that din?
The door is now shut

To those whose oil has run out

There is a day
There is an hour
So keep your lamp alive

Whilst waiting for Him to arrive

The wolf is at the door

The wolf is at the door
Hungry for more than we have
Waiting for a weakness to show itself
And then to attack and quickly devour

The barbarians are at the gate
Rattling sword and shield
Baying for blood
And a sacrifice beyond imagining

The enemy within
Prowls around a beating heart
Like a fox waiting to pounce
When love is at its ripest

Monday, 6 February 2017


the gift
not the giver
is revered

the created
not the
is held up

o my

the gifted
is hurled
from such heights
and spins
spiralling down
into deepening

sun-soaked stains
seep deep
from consciousness
to unconsciousness

sleeping so tightly
and sometimes
to dream
of heaven's

o where are you
in the day?

lost in the vast
of the unmade

the uncreated
waits and watches
and weeps

that your sleep
may not be
the sleep
that is unto

Thursday, 2 February 2017

Thursday, 12 January 2017

Today I saw ...

Today I saw a graveyard of Christmas trees
Trees Christmassy no more
Lying on forlorn sides
Waiting for the shredding
The shattering of needle and bark
Remembering better days
Of sparkling, twinkling lights, and rounded laughter
And so many gifts scattered close in celebration
Did it make the cutting down worthwhile?
Did no one say about the cold and the wind and the dark
And the bitter, bitter waiting for non-existence?
The only hope
Is resurrection