For every courageous act
First flutters the wings of doubt
Beating against my weak will,
My lack of faith a closed heart
Trust – Perhaps now
Is your moment to be free
Broken hearted open to live.

Created in my image, awe of the unknown
Begins
With my love trusting in faithful sharing,
First nurtured by his mother’s love, a family
Emerges
With a cry and his first demands, for life
Cradling, tenderly precious love, my gift
Love
Like I didn’t know could be felt, in me
Holding my beloved for the first time.

Seeing my image becoming whole, growing
Tears
My heart aches with longing to protect
His disappointments belong to me too
Courage
Is hoped for as he embraces life, and spirit
Desiring what began with love, love finishes
Seeking
To open my arms to him whenever he comes
Opening my arms to the heavens, today a prayer
This is my Beloved, every part of me loves him.

My kind son – Beloved

I am glad I don’t have all the answers
About how a perfect life should be lived
Too often I fall short, or flat on my face
When seeking to do the impossible.
I am glad I don’t have the burden of perfection
Falling flat on my face with amazing frequency
My apologies are well rehearsed admissions
that I live life with passion. And, careful words
are not always the first that I speak.
I am glad when running I look like a penguin
Or, I would just be another proud champion
Like many others that burn bright for an instant
Then quickly fade into an abyss of oblivion
I run slowly so this will never be my problem.

I don’t delight in the failures of others
Preferring to see the good that will be
Compassion makes abundant room for hope.

I love the joy of surprise when love comes
Often in unexpected ways. Usually its in
a friend who doesn’t have all the answers
It’s that imperfect friend where love flourishes
There are no perfect moments for a kind word
Waiting, but never speaking and missing the mark
Losing the gift waiting for each of us, unsaid,
Lost because of the search for perfection.

I feel glad when I see a perfect sunrise
The completion of another day arriving
Reminders of the beauty simply contained
Scratches and marks in my walls at home
Showing the tracks of where children have grown
Now getting ready to leave, their imperfect
childhood preparing them for uncertainty ahead
I love when a poem doesn’t look quite perfect
Struggling to know where to end wisely
Settling with enough said about my today
My scattered words expressing my heart’s joy
Thinking to myself, this is how happiness arrives.

Sunrise at Picnic Point Toowoomba

A tear left to wind
A lonely track
down my cheek
Exposing a vulnerable moment
Is allowed to stay
As an act of trust
That asks a question
Is this where I belong?
Will you notice? Or,
will this tear be lost,
My pain forgotten
In the rush of everyone
Going to where they belong.

A smile offered
To a painful secret
Opening trust
Hurt locked away
Because, it says I don’t belong
Given in a shared moment
A gentle smile
Is an outstretched hand
That draws the secret closer
Reassuring when my
dark fears are exposed
That intimate secret
Brought to light
Together here we belong.

This tree fascinated me with a completely dead centre. At first glance it looked like a normal tree but the life was formed around what had died a long time ago.

Life comes as a surprise
Not always following careful plans
My thoughts how it should look
Perfection is green fingers praising the sun
Resting on strong shoulders branching out
Wide and high – shading the earth below
Deep roots drawing from a source
far below the surface,
The surprise comes from looking closer
Finding at the centre – not the edges
Life formed around death
What has died – long ago
Beginning new life, now its source
By dying becoming the frame
Shaping life that emerges and dies again
Forming a different unexpected beauty
The surprise that belongs in all life.

A mountain stream knows that
sometimes,
It must go under the earth,
Travelling through rather than over,
if the veins of nature
Flowing into the sandstone,
granite and soil,
Are to bring life’s gift,
To a world that is waiting and thirsty,
The stream is always on a downward path,
Flowing,
Even when I don’t see it,
Seeking the way that brings life,
Waiting for the right moment
to surface, so the world can drink deeply,
Knowing that drawing breath too soon,
Will waste the life,
held in its flow.

To understand a stream,
I walk in and beside it,
Seeing,
What flows underneath the earth,
As well as above,
Knowing,
That here,
More is happening below,
Than what flows briefly above,
When I wait thirstily with my desires,
A whisper from eternity, or grace, or hope,
Wanting to drink deeply from nature’s source,
I see the life bordering its flow,
Green shoulders protecting the way,
Of this torturous underground path,
Understanding,
Death from evaporation is depletion,
That slowly draws nourishment,
Dying from too much light,
Coming to the surface,
Too soon, Death from,
Not enough patience.

Sometimes is a fleeting glimpse
at joy waiting in the distance,
The hoped for angelic choir a mystery
wanting to sing in my heart,
Mostly it’s the nothing like this,
This place I dream about,
and long for,
In the meantime I walk along
this bloody path
to the way that I don’t love,
At least love enough,
To clap my hands and sing pale ditties,
It’s the gathering up again of
my last bit of courage,
Feeling the ground with feet bared,
Noticing every stone and prickle,
Holiness is when I stop to rest
tired and uncomfortable,
And this place becomes holy,
Feet bloody and bruised,
A smear of my blood on the stones
a sacred mark,
My footsteps remembered by this road.

Mark 1:11 (Passion) 11 At the same time, a voice spoke from heaven, saying:

“You are my Son, my cherished one,
and my greatest delight is in you!”

My delight

Gazing through the leafy sky
A space found to lie down and look up
Still and waiting
Yesterday slowly peeling away,
Tomorrow being pushed back to now,
Now, a gentler space,
Awake but not fully,
Conscious but dozing
Peace slowly landing
Today is doing her work
Tomorrow will come soon enough
Now, I listen to what today says to me
As I look beyond the trees into the sky
I wonder did I see it part just a little
Was it an echo I heard?
Here is my child, now, My beloved.

Until then, there are three things that remain: faith, hope, and love—yet love surpasses them all.[a] So above all else, let love be the beautiful prize for which you run.(The passion)

Faith Hope and Love

Faith love and hope
Three horsemen riding
through my life
Triumphant, triumvirate
Defeated unless there is;
Someone to trust in
Someone I love deeply
Someone to hope with;
Faith, love and hope
Don’t belong to me
They are between us
Shared in a poem
Or in a longing gaze
Or that special word
Or a soft touch;
Faith hope and love
Belong in understanding
Shared wistfully, knowing
they can never be satisfied
Holding disappointment
Cherishing this moment
that we hold together.

Everyday three hundred million cells
Are no longer are a part of who I am,
Becoming air and water,
My breath joining eternity,
Until that final moment,
On that day,
When I join one hundred thousand souls,
That day we no longer feel the air
entering and leaving our bodies,
Now understanding fully,
The questions we ask about eternity,
While I write this,
I continue living wondering
what will die in me today,
And what are the questions I need to ask.

When death touches me,
In a harsh word, or an unkind stare,
Or when I forget to love enough,
I need to leave the straight line,
Of chronologizing successes and failures,
They are a part of what must be let go,
If fresh life is to push through,
These parts of me that are dying,
Returning me to where I was formed,
A dark womb shaped around me,
Waiting, to be invited to join life,
Formed to have every detail loved,
To grieve the daily deaths,
Celebrate life breaking through,
Even a tomb two thousand years ago,
So I breath again, and again…….

Readying myself for Palm Sunday today I sat with John’s gospel and Luke’s account of Palm Sunday. Easter is fast approaching again and I couldn’t help but be touched by this image and all that must have been happening for Jesus at this time.

A Palm Sunday poem

When the cheering stops
Comes silence,
Quiet heartbreak,
Sleeplessness,
Aloneness,
Awake to my darkest fears,
Sadness, tinged with anticipation,
The harsh words of condemnation,
From my own kind
And, from within,
The passions
of jealousy,
Overrule what is right,
To make way for love,
The journey beginning,
Here
Right now
Where I am
Where I don’t want to be,
But, where love is,
On a donkey,
Waiting for fronds
To become spears.

Go and seek it out,
Chase it from its dark burrow,
The trick to finding is to listen,
Know with gentleness,
Embrace pain,
Then find the parts
You can laugh with.
Look for that moment
In all that goes wrong,
To see the joy
waiting to be shared.
Be willing to look into her eyes,
Long enough so you have to blink,
And wait, patiently,
Knowing.
Laughter is close,
Don’t wait,
Find her now
And laugh together.

Disappointment needs to be held
Like a newborn,
The wonder of life,
Discovered by looking into her soul,
Her distinct cry,
Of want and need
Wanting attention now,
Defenceless…….. dependence,
Allows love to rise up,
We look into her eyes,
Lovingly,
Holding,
Closely,
Touching softly,
Letting love soothe.

Morning’s first light framed
Held a moment in my hands
Eternity’s hello.

Purest heart
Beautiful laughter
Together
Belonging
Her gifts given with kind trust
Love comes now, just wait.

Eyes crinkling
Her smile shared with mine
Our secrets
Shared moments
A lifetime of knowing learned
My faithful friend found.

I found this old picture a little while ago and it got me wondering about what was going on for me back then. I wrote this poem to express something of what has happened since then.

I never knew

I never knew
What these eyes would see
My future waiting
My life hopeful, expectant
Trusting loving care
Uncertainty felt
Life begins for a pilgrim.

I never knew
What pain awaited
A child’s dreams and hopes
Slowly broken as years pass
Shy uncertainty
About what will come
Carefree days lost long ago.

I never knew
What words would be said
Loving and angry
Disappointments felt deeply
Caring and kind words
Their marks left on me
Each word holding my story

I never knew
What joys were coming
Growing into a man
The chance to cherish a wife
To hold precious love
Surprised laughter
The gift of faithful years shared.

I never knew
Made in my image
Meant unfathomable
Deepest love finding new places
Blessings found in children
Each one a God gift
Unexpected joys arrived.

I never knew
The treasure of friends
Till some turned their back
And others embraced with grace
The sadness of loss
Love changed to hate
Living and dying each day.

I never knew
That I would have dreams
Or try to write poems
That I would be deeply loved
Or, find words to say
How I feel right now
This boy’s eyes seen fresh today.

Little sadnesses are gathered in my suitcase,
Joining me as I set out each day,
Are they what I pack to take with me?
Or, are they waiting for me? Ready to hitch a ride.
Maybe, they’re nothing to do with me?
But, always there, like air,
Waiting,
Till I have to stop and be still,,
And, I find them here – I feel their breath;
A feeling in my gut; then heart; then mind,
Coupled with the overwhelming panic of thinking:
What if they will take me under for the third time?
Sometimes shouting at me in a loud voice,
Sometimes deafening with awful silence.

When I try to work out, Why they are there?
Can’t I pack a little lighter?
Are they my fault?
Was it something I did? Or, should have done?
Was it because I didn’t listen enough to the light?
Or, are they an invitation to pray a psalm?
Now, right in the middle of not knowing,
Sadnesses brings God to me in the shape of humanity,
He always knew ……….
Love is not an event from the distant past,
It’s the compassion that I feel now,
As the sadness exposes the raw edges of love,
Grating with how I can never love enough.

In the silence and the sadness,
The loneliness of being the only me,
Sometimes feeling the heavy burden
of what I have gathered over the years,
Things carried and not knowing,
Losing some things with a tinge of regret,
Finding new ways to cry and feel pain,
To see sadness lashing out at what is loved,
Waiting,
For the laughter to come again,
Sadness is not my fault, but the reality
of choosing to live out of love,
Raw edges, unwanted, unknown stuff carried,
Painful bruises left as reminders, and signs
of where the sadness visited,
And, the path that healing has to take.

I want to
Love fiercely
Cry often
Laugh wholeheartedly
Fail hugely every day
Listen intently
Beg for forgiveness
Fall asleep into Caring’s heartache
safely each night.