The Moon

A sliver of a crescent

The rest a shadow of the whole

Startling; Strking

So little reflected

And yet...

Truly, mesmerisingly, beautiful

Nestled across the bottom of the moon

This wonderful faint outline of the whole disk

And as I think about this now

Is this a metaphor for me? For us?

So little of me reflected

Just the emergent, merest part

And yet...

What a beautiful thing to behold

All that potential

All that is still to be revealed

But none of this detracts from

Or undermines the beauty of the crescent

Present: here and now

No disappointment that more is not showing

Just a genuine enjoyment of that which is visible

This very instant

Is this a picture of how you see me?

Of how you love me?

Please let it be so.

The Eye of the Storm

Life seems to lurch
Recklessly
From one stress
To another
Careering blindly
Into crisis
After crisis
And even the respite
The eye of the storm
Brings little relief
From the knot-clenched stomach
Anticipating
Dreading
The fury to come

Do not worry about tomorrow
For today has enough cares of its own

And I cling once again
To your word
Speaking your truth into being

The Scent of Beautiful

The scent of beautiful
Inhaling the smell of precious
Bed-warm, soft boy-skin
Small hand in mine
Arm looped around my neck
Drawing me in
Pulling me close
I love you
Til my heart could burst
No words enough
To express the swell
And soar
Of my heart's full joy

My Mary; My Martha

I so want to stop
and sit at your feet
To slow down; surrender
Hear your heart beat

Clocks tick
Bells ring
Voices clamour
Don't wait

I'm looking; I'm searching
I long for your face
Your arm gently round me
A tender embrace

Sleeves tugged
Meals cooked
Jobs done
Don't stop

'Come close', you whisper
In the cool, still air
'I'm waiting...for you
Come close...if you dare'

Slow down
Breathe deep
Sit still
In the light

On Fire

I want to receive from you
I want to believe in you

Real, tangible, gritty stuff
Not airy, fairy, flouncy fluff

I want to feel your heart beat
To turn and see you in the next seat

Here and now; a living thing
Not some distant Heavenly king

I want your blood to pump my heart
I long to play a better part

Take my will, my heart's desire
Take it and use it and make it fire

Deep calls to Deep

Today
My battle-wearied soul
Calls out to you
From the Deep
Through the Deep
My storm-tossed heart
Yearns for you
Turns to your light
Through the light
Grant me safe harbour

Mondays

Mondays are yellow
The colour of daffodils
Bright, beaming golden
Rays of hope
Of Springtime promise
Beacons on the greying landscape
Illuminating the horizon

Mondays are orange
As the Autumn-tinted leaves
Warm and welcoming
Fires that burn for you
Vibrant, full of life
Intense and creative
Your glory sought after
Your name surely praised

Mondays are purple
Winter-flowering pansies
Resolute against the cold
Richly textured
Simple, yet majestic
Regal, heads held high
Sometimes mourning

Mondays are white
Pure as the dove of peace
Tranquil; soothing
Slow and serene
Binding up the brokenness
With bands of love
Of truth, hope and grace

Mondays are blue
As the still summer sea
Or the fresh Spring sky
Full of space
Space to laugh
Space to cry
Space to grow

Mondays with my friend
Are Mondays with you