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Tag Archives: #preparingforSundaywithpoetry
Words that do not pass away
I do not remember well my mother’s voice any more; the soprano on the cd is younger than I knew her. What I carry buried deep within my skull are nursery rhymes and nonsense that emerge like sea mammals, occasionally, … Continue reading
Blessed
Blessed are those who know God’s poverty: the emptying out of all that is not God. Blessed are those who grieve with God, who know the sorrow of heaven, who nestle in God’s bosom. Blessed are those who have the mind of God, not … Continue reading
Regret
What happens when we stop asking questions? What if instead we had kept on, like a child of God asking why? why? but why? If we had trusted enough to stay in our cautious curiosity, allowed our anger, even outrage to feed a sceptical hope. He was our … Continue reading
Render
Give to God what is God’s, he said, and some, taking him at his Word, went out to prepare the holy sacrifice.
God head
Note: this week’s #preparingforSundaywithpoetry takes non-random words from the Gospel and pairs them to unearth (or undermine) the meaning of the exchange. These words appear in the NRSV translation. Continue reading
The witness
And in the dirt between the rows a single grape transfixed my pity, split, seed spilt on unforgiving earth, ragged skin torn from purple flesh; like a dog, I wanted to kneel down and lick the wine from its tender … Continue reading
The tax collectors and the prostitutes enter a fancy hotel called The Kingdom of God
Please, I said, go ahead, sweeping open the door in a hurry so that I need not sully my hand with your grime; a false smile is no crime in the service of good manners and fine hygiene. You scurried through as though afraid that I might change … Continue reading
The middle man
#preparingforSundaywithpoetry
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Seventy times seven
How many hurts accumulate like straws under a camel’s nose before it sneezes, before the involuntary blast of anger, grief, ugliness propels one’s inside out, clutches at the throat like stone eggs, tears a slow, impassible river floating faded, sodden … Continue reading
Two or three
Two or three: Jesus why are you afraid to be too alone with me? ______________ #preparingforSundaywithpoetry. This Sunday’s Gospel is full of numbers – no, not of numbers, of people, unalone. Matthew 18:15-20
over the water 