Poetry

We the leader

Hope, hurts and hungers of the crowd have found an ear,
the powerless are empowered,
listen to us.
Words whispered in silence find their way to the lips of one who would lead,
the voiceless find a voice,
speak for us.
Mist that veils the future, locks in the past as if ever present is dispelled,
the blind see – vision paints a new picture,
see tomorrow for us.
Alone each one living behind labels and in boxes,
the isolated are formed into community,
belong with us.
The leader, listens, speaks, sees and belongs.
“We” becomes the leader.
We are therefore I am . . .
the leader.

All in a day

I was kissed by the rising sun,
I climbed a mountain,
stood on its crown and raised my arms in surrender.
I rode a Harley one thousand miles.
I sailed to the edge of the world
where the land lost its sight.
I walked on golden sands,
swam in a symphony of
tropical colour.
I mounted on eagle’s wings,
saw the world through its eyes.
I drank wine with dear friends in the world’s four corners.
I was held by a baby whose eyes saw
a me I didn’t know
and  experienced the miracle grace,
that broke me and made me whole.
I painted a canvas with words, that danced into life,
I was watched by the man in the moon
who sees all in the dark of the night.
I folded the corner of today’s page,
so I could remember my place when I awoke.

Take off your shoes

Go back to the mountains and let them speak of your vulnerabilities,
of plans and purposes that have not felt the cutting wind,
or been tested  by fire and ice.
Gather your thoughts in the clouds and see
if you can’t hold them by the power of your own understanding.
Stand still in the silence of wonder.
Speak in the hushed tones of morning mist.
Listen to your heart beat and the laughter of the water cascading over rocks.
Feel
lost,
alone,
powerless,
insignificantly significant
under the vast sky.
Take off your shoes.
Remember your name and the ground on which you stand.
Only then
are you safe to return to the city.

Defiance

I did not choose
this story of discordant elements,
a script handed to me,
tangled with time and circumstance.
But . . .
I did choose defiance,
to dig deep and hold on
with tight, white-knuckled,
determination,
because you said,
“You’ll never amount to anything”.

Unwrapping God

 

Unwrapping God,
as the coloured clothes
of creation
are stripped back,
revealing naked beauty
of form,
contour,
and shades
of darkness
and light.
Behind mystery’s veil,
you catch a glimpse
of heaven’s secrets,
for those who would,
see and believe.