Monday, 6 February 2017

gifted

the gift
not the giver
is revered

the created
not the
Creator
is held up
high

o my

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

sun-soaked stains
seep deep
from consciousness
to unconsciousness

sleeping so tightly
and sometimes
to dream
of heaven's
window

o where are you
in the day?

lost in the vast
universe
of the unmade
Maker

the uncreated
Creator
waits and watches
and weeps

that your sleep
may not be
the sleep
that is unto
death



Thursday, 2 February 2017

Thursday, 12 January 2017

Today I saw ...

Today I saw a graveyard of Christmas trees
Trees Christmassy no more
Stripped
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