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

Creation

In the beginning was
You
Just you
Not me
Or them
No 'us'
Just you

Love
Enormous, vast love
So immense
Unable to remain
Static; contained

So, your love burst forth
to create
An outpouring
of you
to form the universe
A birthing of your best
Extravagant
Redolent
Expressive

And this is why
the smallest hidden detail
in all nature
is beautiful
Exquisite
Eye-catching
It was - it is -
You
A part of you
But you did not
finish the job

Just the start of something
A canvas to be added to
And in your love
your generosity
Bounty
You gently
Reverently
formed life
Us
Flesh of your flesh
Loved into existence
And called to be
co-creators
in this place
Designed to share
the beauty and the love
And to multiply it
Extend it
To create of ourselves
with you

The Bath

Decadently deep
Foolishly hot
Body submerged
Almost floating
Away from the world
Cocooned in persistent heat
Water calming
Delicious
Skin reddened
Feeling slightly sick
The perfect bath

Toes turning taps
Cold
To relieve steaming limbs
Relax

Book poised
Tea sipped
And later
Much later
A little more hot
Prolong the pleasure
The perfect bath

Quiet Time

As I gaze through the window
at the slowly swirling snowflakes
I present myself to you
   Here I am Lord
Then it starts
The recesses of my mind
jangling, needling
with unresolved problems
deeply-held anxieties
All jostling for attention
Greedy, needy
demanding 'me first'

But truth be told
I just want to rest
to rest in your presence
No agenda
No 'to do' list
Still my mind
Soothe my senses
Just companionable silence
Togetherness

January

Do you see the greyness?
Despair at the rain?
Grumble at the cold and damp?
Or do you marvel at the glorious sunrise?
Awe-struck by luminous rainbows filling the sky
Heart-lifted by frost-wrapped blades of grass
Breath-taken by mist-consumed valleys
Soul-sung by arcing skeins of geese
Knee-bent by the bounteous majesty of the sunset
Lift your heads
Look around 
He is here

One Day

One day in heaven
I will sing effortless harmonies
like refracted light
One day in heaven
I will paint extravagant brushstrokes
declaring the glory of your creation
One day in heaven
I will find words to express my love
without uttering a sound
One day

Until then
I will offer the little I have
The fraction of the creative me
you created me to be
But I will not be frustrated by my lack
Just thankful for your gifts
which I shall try to use
However imperfect, uncertain
to praise your name
today

In the garden

I strugggle, I think, to see you
Until I step into your world
Into the winter-clad garden I venture
And there you are
In the early bulb shoots
pushing through the frost-bitten earth
In the call of the birds
in the bare, barren trees
In the green - just a word for a thousand hues
Pearlescent, suffused in sunlight
The vibrant red of berries on a leafless branch
In each and every one I see you
Your beauty and your majesty
so easy to miss
To rush unseeing by
But when I pause
You are all around
Thank you for giving me eyes
to see you this way
When the dark crevices of my mind
present endless distractions
Your beauty is true
Your light prevails
And you draw me back to you

Storm-tossed and Weary

To be found in a tempest
that is only for me
To be caught in a storm
that no one else can see
Deserted in the wilderness
when there are people all around
Screaming and crying
though none can hear a sound
How long, Lord, I shout?
Won't you please let me out?

Oh I know that you're there
and that you constantly love me
And I don't really think
that this is all the life you give me
I hear you; I see you
I know that you are there
You touch me, embrace me
In my suffering you share

But I shout and rage
Nonetheless

On retreat

Today is a spacious place
Today is peaceful
Slower of pace
Today there is time to sit and be
Today there is room to be me

A chance to get to know You better
A brother; a friend
Not some distant being
A father; a mother
Not some amorphous other

You are my beloved
And I am yours

Today is a spacious place

He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me (Psalm 18)
You have not given me into the hands of the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place (Psalm 31)
When hard pressed, I cried to the Lord; he brought me into a spacious place (Psalm 118)

Hidden Gem

Is this a stripping away?
Is this a laying bare?
Rugged oak chiselled and planed
to reveal an intricate design
Is this the reconstruction
of the house that is me
that I thought was alright?
Are you mining to find the diamond?
However rough it may be
That I may become a jewel
A jewel in your crown?

Freedom

Who will be the dreamer of my dreams?
For it is not I. Not now, not here
And who will sing my song?
When there are no words to bring
No sound to be made
Who will write my story?
With no paper to be found
And the ink run dry
Who will paint my picture?
When I am colourless; invisible
And there's nothing left to see?
And who will dance my rhythm?
When I am shackled, held in chains

But from the deths of my soul I cry
That I was surely made to fly
To soar; on high
To dream and to sing
To write and to paint
To dance my own dance
Set me free
So I can be me