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Category Archives: poetry
Thaw
Create in me a new heart, O God (Psalm 51:11a) Wind trills taughtly-anchored telegraph wires. A stave of birds compose an arpeggio, ready for flight. Hedges shrug off the gusts and hold the line, but Something is trying to stir … Continue reading
Wednesday Morning Prayer
Reposted from the Episcopal Cafe. The recommended Canticle for use after the first testament reading at Morning Prayer on a Wednesday is Surge, illuminare: Rise and shine. On a day like any other buses ran, some on time buskers sang, … Continue reading
Posted in poetry, prayer
Tagged Daily Office, Isaiah 60:1, morning prayer, Wednesday canticles
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Falling
Precipitated by clever argument between gravity, ice, and the presumption of free will, bruised as creation, blue and green, concussed like goatskin stretched and pounding – the serpent, sliding snidely by, hisses something about pride, a fig leaf, and the … Continue reading
Winter prayer
Snow has fallen, slurring my footsteps, skewing my pathway to prayer. Only become as a child, you say: trade caution for the headlong hurtle; build snowmen, not as idols but monument to the meeting of flesh and raw air.
Unquiet centre
not the absence of sound but
footprints on the ceiling and
the waltz of a three-legged cat Continue reading
Posted in meditation, poetry, prayer
Tagged centering prayer, Genesis 1, silence, unquiet
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A baptism
In Galilee, a root gripped my foot,
the tree of life inverted, submerged … Continue reading
Be still and know: meditation on a breathing meditation
After each breath is complete, there is a pause, in which nothing at all happens. In that pause, there is stillness, silence, a full and sufficient absence. Continue reading
Posted in book review, meditation, poetry, prayer
Tagged #OneBreathBook, absence, breath, childbirth, God, J. Dana Trent, meditation
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The widow’s might
what if the widow’s mite was hope, and she spent all she had to live on
Posted in haiku, lectionary reflection, poetry, prayer
Tagged Mark 12:38-44, widow's mite, Year B Proper 27
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Inspire
Why wait for inspiration when before the breath that catches on creation, shucks life into eternity, expires before the face of God aspired the Spirit had already taken wing, hefting feathers into flight, breaching the horizon of the first Word, advent of the … Continue reading
We talked about this
Shackled to the shadows of a brutalist building, words barely grazing our lips, we talked about this. Our breath stirred the air, that sabbath exhalation at the end of creation; the wordless sigh of God.
Posted in current events, poetry, prayer
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