Sunday, 23 December 2007

Too Much

The bird's call to each other
The branches are bare
The frosty night governs the land
The birds twitter and then there is silence

The ancient poet said, 'let silence take you to the core of life'
What there can be melted down and remade?
Lies liquised and traded in
Love solidified and given out with the instruction:
'You must end the search for happiness'

Too much to stop
Too much to want to see the signpost pointing away from home
Too much water under the bridge not to be carried along by the past's dark tide
Too much agony, too much destiny
Too much talk to hear the still small centre that hides the reactor that locates the power

Centre of the earth
Centre of my soul

There is too much to know

Saturday, 8 December 2007

I have proclaimed truth's river but have not always been able to swim in it

I tried to hear the voice of love in the midst of the world's empty spinning.
I tried to listen to the only one who can save - the only one mighty enough to deliver from deep darkness.
God of heaven came down and walked through the haze of sinfulness,
The cloud of sorrowfulness, upon the shards of forgetfulness, and reached the edges of me.
Some will call, open-handed, shame-faced, contrite, whilst others will remain tight shut.
Those who do not open their eyes unto vain shallow tidings and cover themselves with truthful writings - they are the ones who will be blessed!
The Lord has taken the beating, the whipping, the driving pain of nails through flesh and bone.
He does not need silence, empty chatter or pretense.
He does not need the deep shaft of injustice reaching down into his earth.
I say, "When will the dark corners be exposed by the ruthless search-light from on high?
So many cowering figures to unfold, and my heart's story yet to be told."
I have proclaimed truth's river but have not always been able to swim in it.
Lord, will you not destroy the giants of corruption tramping through the mazes of indifference?
Concrete and steel columns that seem immovable will crack from within and crumble upon the heads of the poor.
Swirling patches of darkness, like typhoons will rush down and catch men up, along with the things that they have made.
And I remain fixed in a closed space surveying my hands and the landscape for new signs of life.
Lord, there is enemy who comes only to rob, kill and destroy.
Broken vessels strewn the earth.
Lord, when will you lead the heavenly host out?
When will the gate swing wide and prosperity shout?
Lord, you stand on the edge of victory's dawn, as so many hearts are failing.
My eyes are dimming.
The ravages of sin have made so much of the earth uninhabitable.
Yet it is still lived in.
Lord of hosts, this is your home.

(based on Psalm 40, written using the Psalm Readings technique)