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Peace at Taize

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Written October 2017
Knobbly knuckles and wobbly knees
Fold down on the mat
With yesterday's dust and today's pebbles before the altar,
Fo'csle on a troubled ship 
Struggling under saffron sails,
Questioning survival.

Shoes off and the voices of the world silent 
As number 53 shows up on a digital monitor,
And the rich tones of a French tenor break in
With 'Dona la pace', saturating the soul with repetition
And lingering still in the echoing halls of the mind,
Lifting the sorrow, stress and strain
Of a world on the edge. 
 
So we leave for the countryside
Bessed by a Burgundy sun
Baking down on a picnic lunch under the conker tree,
Overlooking hills gently patterned by the farmer.
And the world seems at peace,
And we know what we want,
Restored by a presence we can’t understand
But know  
As the storms within settle,
While those beyond rage on. 
 
Taize  September 2017 



The Sanctuary, Taize 

Ongoing Exploration

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Written March 2017
Always going beyond the horizon -
Searching for something, or just the unknown
Or what will be there when the journey is over.
Perhaps to find the best place to rest?
A stone for a pillow on a rough path
Among rabbit burrows and fox holes,
Under the bird's nest cradled in the willow
Weeping its catkins over us - ashes
And what's left of me scattered, for the west wind
To lift me high into the skies before dropping
Down to earth and the world that gave birth
Under the shade of an African rock.

Or among the sophisticates of suburban London
Waiting for the 269 to take me just a few stops
Past the zebra crossing with a lollypop lady,
Through Royal Parade and Chislehurst aristocrats
To the front door, where you ring the bell,
But it sensed you coming and makes you welcome
Near the end of the journey of declining years.
But even here exploration continues.
So let me just stay on the way, wandering
Till I'm found and welcomed with open arms
To the place already reserved for me,
Only to discover it's myself I've found.

March 2017

A response to the Bible Study on 'Spiritual Exploration'.

(Photo: Constantia, Cape Town 2008)

Where’s My Pokémon?

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Written July 2016
Who'd have thought you'd find him
  in Bethlehem's manger
Or hiding in sawdust 
  under the carpenter's bench;
A young man lost in discussion 
  with experts of religion,
Called from the crowd, 
  to be baptised for a life of love
Which starts in a desert, 
  challenged by another Pokémon.
 
Then off to Galilee, 
  teaching, healing, providing,
But asleep in a boat 
  while others worry about a storm.
Unwanted in neighbouring Samaria 
  but he's there,
And also Gethsemane - 
  though it leads to a cross.
No more in the garden tomb though - 
  so try elsewhere.
 
The virtual has just invaded 
  our world of reality.
My Pokémon (I've given him that name) 
  came centuries earlier,
Down to earth, among us, 
  even in Bromley,
Looking for me, 
  though encouraging my search.
 
The Son of Man came to seek and to save ..... (Luke 19:10) 

You will find me ..... (Jeremiah 29:13)   

Read more about Pokémon GO here
 
July 2016 


 

Through the Roof

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Written August 2016
Polyneuropathy, spina bifida, a stroke,
Motor neurone disease? But a pleasant bloke.
All we know, he's been paralysed for years,
One of the disabled without their wheelchairs.

Some might even think we're a gang of pall-bearers
Working under the direction of the undertakers,
Bypassing outpatients, surgeries and other sick-bays,
None of them very successful these days.

We're headed for the house mobbed by milling crowds.
Never make it in - might as well be in the clouds.
But who left the step-ladder here? Just for us?
Carefully lads - gently - let him down without fuss

That guy got him fixed real quick - he's up and about.
Said something about sin, though we deserve the clout.
The man who fixed him up won't repair the roof,
So the landlord's after us, better be on your hoof.
 
Mark 2:1-5

August 2016

Crucified Together

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Written March 2016
I became the cross that held him there,
Compulsorily cruciate against the skyline,
Sharing his forsakeness,
Written off, forgotten and rejected
On the journey of departing;
With a cry of desolation that clutches every day,
Anchored to earth in the embrace of love.
 
I did it for his sake; he does it for mine,
Willingly holding me up as the crossbeam,
And without condemnation in the dignity of dying;
Together in the mystery of suffering
That finds it difficult to say goodbye 
Even with hope for what will happen
To complete the story the day after tomorrow.
 
March 2016 

 
Galatians 2:20
 

More Articles...

  1. Eucharist
  2. YHWH
  3. Garden Encounter
  4. The Path

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