The Rhythm of Faith

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Written September 2023

Kick-started in the passion of conception, 
Until the foetal heart rate slows into moderato;
From the hopes of childhood to the excitement of youth
As the dance floor reverberates with the drum beat of tango
All tangled and twisted, mixing the daily round
With five-four chaos, at sixes and sevens with doubt,
Until the conductor taps his baton, saying ‘Stop!’ 
And a bugle sounds reveille, awakening the rebirth of faith
In four-four time, with best foot forward on the march,
Until quick-step slows into the waltz of later life
With the end in sight, getting ready for the farewell symphony 
Triggering fibrillation, until it finally stops for ever. 
Done and dusted, with the death of faith and hope.
Only love endures - quietly and in another place. 
 
September 2023
 

City Centre Resurrection

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Written March 2023

Once-upon-a-time world of boarded up emptiness:
Stank, dank underground, dark as death row, 
Now hunkered down in damp decay,   
Where you may find Alice and an old man without a hat, 
Trying to smarten up with an old-fashioned tie,
Dreaming of the fox on the run as the horses whinny;
The hounds, released from their kennels, baying for blood 
In the thrill of the hunt like the Good Friday mob. 
 
While a steeple faces its own decline, scaffolded in hope;
Until a younger man emerges from his third day entombed,
And we know he needs to fix much more than the garden 
As the rain drizzles down the slope of the car park, wetting,
Rather than washing our feet, when what everything needs
Is another makeover, freshly baptised by him. 
 
For Easter, April 2023
 
From an unpleasant underground car park, through a run-down city centre to the cathedral where we pause and think of Easter. 
 

Blackberry Eucharist

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Written August 2023

The secret location is set back from the Pilgrims' Way,
Our private place, shared in confidence, provided I don't tell.
So we set off laden with supermarket shopping bags,
Ready for picking off the shelves of inflated prices.
 
So we hardly need to search - they seem to be waiting,
Gleaming under a midday sun, dark red burgundy,
Ready, as though wanting to be lifted with utmost gentleness
From the branch that gave them life for these brief days. 
 
But security guards stand ready to ward off invaders:
Thorny brambles, stinging nettles, yellow gorse, 
Willing to fight and lay down life defending a friend, 
But this one says no - I give myself of my own free will.
 
My hands are covered with what I think is my own blood,
Or is it red wine? But no,  it's from the berry, and I remember him. 
 
August 2023. 
 

Isolation

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Written March 2020

Locked up in solitary confinement on death row,
Awaiting the end for what I deserve.
On my own, as though preparation 
For the ultimate end on my Desert Island;
Silenced, but with recurring memories 
That swirl in a mind seething with rage,
Because I’m a danger to others.
 
But I hear the world’s gone into lock-down —
Possible carriers hibernating for safety sake
As a few strands of RNA combine;
The latest danger threatening all. 
Locked up, locked down; all of us afraid,
But someone came with divine intent
To free us from our rage — and fear. 
 
March 2020