The Seeking Pilgrim

Was ever thus, 

when the pilgrim came from

the sea,

fearing the return.


They stayed in a 

still small island

listening for the

thin place and

finding only birds

and the rolling waves,

filling the air

with music,

when they looked for 

God. In the waiting 

they smile at flowers

nodding in the bee breezes

and glower at the dark clouded horizon.


Slowly time slipped by and the shore

filled and emptied to a rhythm 

set by the Spirit,

and the pilgrim 

picks driftwood  

as a memory.

The Waiting

Holy Saturday

Hushed was the garden where he lay,

birds silently watched and soft wings

of many hued butterflies flit to and fro

alight on the stone as if they could 

prise it open and find their Lord within.


In Bethany tears flowed, work stopped,

food untouched, and shocked bodies

slumped,, and talking tried to find a way,

to think of life without his being there

and the failure of all that he promised.


The eye of the storm lay over Jerusalem,

as the leaders rejoiced in their victory

and enjoyed their power and Passover,

feasting and worshipping their man made

God of power, abuse and bloody sacrifice.

Within the tomb Jesus lay,

God holding his broken body close,

together they caused an abundance of love

that would heal a broken world and seal

the promise of hope again.

The Consolation of Waiting

Waiting in the sun breathed stone, the candle

flame flickering in the breath of the minds that

flew to realms unmet, unknown. Fear

filled my heart as I watched the glow of light

illuminating the darkness within me.


I saw those things,

I hide from others,

as stark and grasping.

Their noisy voices overwhelmed me

and I cried out wounded by sharp knives.


It rests on me. A touch, like the

caress of a gentle, warming breeze.

My heart stills and time slows,

the boundaries of my flesh dissolve 

and the solid worn sofa beneath 

softens and fades, I am because God is. 

There eternity holds  me. And I, 

aware of being for that moment 

in grace, opened myself to that 

kindling I sought, 

something that 

brought me 

the comfortable

knowledge that 

somehow somewhere a 

being rests on us, 

sheltering us with 

lit love.