Category Archives: poetry

Who do you say that I am?

One with the patience to measure the countless millimetres between here and eternity; his father taught him to measure twice, cut once. He would joke around the workshop that he had come to bring not peace, but a saw; brandishing, … Continue reading

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Storm in black and white

Violent ultra violet piercing dark skies; dangerous contrast.

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Morning Prayer

On the days when the sun does not rise, when the chill will not dissipate from the night air, words fall anechoic from our lips to the carpeted abyss. Let our tears be our salt- seasoned offerings, burning water our … Continue reading

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Year A Proper 15: send her away

Matthew 15:21-28: the Syrophoenician/Canaanite/canine woman. Some problems for the preacher. What’s in a name? You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You old dog. Sly old dog. Dirty old dog. Dogged. Hot dog. Dog eat dog. Why keep a … Continue reading

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Episcopalian haiku

Vespers Sunset on steeple. Shadows lengthen; silence falls Still, fire burns inside

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Transfiguration

Early in the darkening dawn, shadows weighting their sight, waiting for the sun to rise on the Light of the World, blind their vision with magnesium-bulb brightness, harmonic resonance of lightning arcing between earth and heaven.

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Ye of little faith

It feels less like walking on water than drowning in mid-air; the perfume of your presence is too heady to bear. I make myself thin to slip from your embrace; breathe once more the comfortable air of an ordinary, little faith.

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Leftovers

One made bread pudding. Another, croutons for soup. One mashed them in milk for the tomorrow baby’s breakfast. The important  thing was, they got to keep the crumbs; no more maggots in the manna; they got to bring it home, … Continue reading

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Re-creation

in the beginning, when God began to create the heavens and the earth, all was formless and void, and the Spirit of God moved over the dark waters Suspended in salt water, albatross passes over; create me.

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The patient God

This Sunday, we read the pinnacle of Paul’s poetry: I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation can separate … Continue reading

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