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
Monday, 6 February 2017
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?
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
Is resurrection
Sunday, 4 December 2016
Advent Vigil
We wait, wide-eyed not in wonder
But shock, cold
The world spins, stricken for so many reasons
Darkness expanding, truthfulness receding
We wait, wide-eyed, sleepless
Resisting the inevitable
Wondering if something else could happen to break the night
Seeking warmth, seeing home, listening for a whisper to herald the light
I wait
Can I hold attention?
To be patient someone said – is to be brave
The world’s saviour was born blinking into evil’s glare
An eternal mystery wrapped in time and space
Truth come close
To hold the shattered earth
The shards of existence pierced hallowed hands and feet
Before the descent into the deep depth of darkness
But shock, cold
The world spins, stricken for so many reasons
Darkness expanding, truthfulness receding
We wait, wide-eyed, sleepless
Resisting the inevitable
Wondering if something else could happen to break the night
Seeking warmth, seeing home, listening for a whisper to herald the light
I wait
Can I hold attention?
To be patient someone said – is to be brave
The world’s saviour was born blinking into evil’s glare
An eternal mystery wrapped in time and space
Truth come close
To hold the shattered earth
The shards of existence pierced hallowed hands and feet
Before the descent into the deep depth of darkness
And then the rising
But not now
Now is the wait, the waiting
For the birth
It’s so cold and so very dark
Don’t fret
Just stay awake for the miracle
We need to be brave
We need to be saved
© Sarah Larkin 2016
Saturday, 19 November 2016
Saturday, 12 November 2016
“Things don’t change now the way they changed of old” Cuis de Comoes (d 1580)
Things don’t
change now the way they changed of old
The world
has morphed into a shape not easy to hold
Deepest
darkest sword thrusting through these times
Piercing and
dislodging
Dismembering
and forgetting
The human
story
What do we
remember?
Dances, long
summer days
Safety
between sea and sand …
Things don’t
change now the way they use to
Not in
degrees, a progression
There’s a
gathering of disparate forces, uniting for a
Tsunami
O my
What will
remain under the surface of so many losses?
Wednesday, 9 November 2016
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