Skip to main content

Unholy Saturday

I've been reading real poets' words over recent weeks, and frankly have been too busy, and perhaps to "emptied out" to put my own thoughts into words. But off the back of the attached Mark Rothko painting ("Black on Dark Sienna on Purple"  by Mark Rothko 1960 in the Museum of contemporary Art) that I posted as part of my #LentArt social media exercise, and local events recently these words bubbled up almost unsummoned.


A beautiful sunshine filled day,
But darkness reigns.
Blossoms bursting with life,
But hope is dead.
Sabbath in an unholy week of chaos
Without real rest.

The mob has made their choices clear.
The politician washes his hands,
Incapable of comprehending 
The very concept of truth.
And the religious leaders,
The men of God,
Have sacrificed 
Another young man 
To the twin gods
Of violence and self-interest.
It’s a small group of women
Who remained to the end.

But that was yesterday;
Today, nothing.
We stay at home as commanded;
Nothing to do.
And tomorrow never comes;
No light on the horizon.

Selah










Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Everyday Discipleship

Reading again the story of Joshua and the walls of Jericho in preparation for our current Bible Study on "Whole Life Worship" and I am struck again by the difficulty, and importance, of connecting such stories with the everyday experience of people... and indeed myself. Years ago a friend wrote a poem that said "Oh to be in shining armour at the photocopier..." More that a quarter of a century later those words still resonate with me... Ask me clearly  To do the impossible  And I will happily attempt it. Separate waters  With a walking stick To escape pursuing foes. Blow my trumpet  To demolish the impregnable Despite mocking from the ramparts. Face a fearsome giant With a few pebbles, faith And not so youthful arrogance. Sit amongst lions Rather than desert you, Anticipating our enemies’ demise. Let me be a hero Striding across scripture Your words in my ears and mouth. Yes Lord, please Deliver me, not from evil But the undifferentiated mundane; The daily demands 

A Woman of no Distinction

Don't often post other people's stuff here... But I found this so powerful that I thought I should. It's a performance poem based on John 4: 4-30, and I have attached the original YouTube video below. A word for women, and men, everywhere... "to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known." I am a woman of no distinction of little importance. I am a women of no reputation save that which is bad. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances, Though you don’t really take the time to look at me, Or even get to know me. For to be known is to be loved, And to be loved is to be known. Otherwise what’s the point in doing either one of them in the first place? I WANT TO BE KNOWN. I want someone to look at my face And not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth and two ears; But to see all that I am, and could be all my hopes, loves and fears. But that’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for So I don’t, not anymore. Now I keep to myself And

Praise of a Man

In the absence of any adequate words of my own, for someone who loved poetry, here is "Praise of a Man" by Norman McCaig. together with the picture I posted this morning as part of my #PentecostArt series, "Starry Night Over the Rhone" by Vincent Van Gogh. In response to that post another friend wrote  "Always love this picture - but a helpful reminder of the way light is reflected. We need that right now!" We do indeed. He went through a company like a lamplighter – see the dull minds, one after another, begin to glow, to shed a beneficent light. He went through a company like a knifegrinder – see the dull minds scattering sparks of themselves, becoming razory, becoming useful. He went through a company as himself. But now he’s one of the multitudinous company of the dead where are no individuals. The beneficent lights dim but don’t vanish. The razory edges dull, but still cut. He’s gone: but you can see his tracks still, in the snow of the world. Shalom