Tag: poem
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The Way
What ifthe waythe truththe lifewas not some threadbare pathinvisible to the naked eyesomewhere far awayand up highsomething you have to work foror something you have to buy? What if the way was where you already arewaiting to be exploredwaiting for you to take off your loadto bare, instead, a yoke so easy so lightlike a…
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Becoming
I wonder what it would be like to move slowly in this worldto be a snail and find home in memy curvesmy shellthe delicacy of my flesh.To leave an imprint of myselfas I travel subtlysmoothlysimplyon the sun-beaten cement. To find places of solace on a stonebetween slivers and grooves of a cedarlearning to staybeing grateful…
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A New Name
I’m done with ‘God’, ‘Jesus’, ‘Christ’, ‘Lord’, ‘King’, ‘Father’.Can’t take it any longer. I’m letting all of you goso you might relax, too, and be freed from constantly being a show. Now what if I called you ‘flow’‘The tingling’‘The gut’‘The sensation’‘The pull’?What if I called you ‘compassion’ and ‘acceptance’?What if I called you ‘My seeing’‘My hearing’‘The…
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in something small
Salvation is not triumphant.Sometimes it is as subtle as the cleaners,the cooksand the kind people who take away our garbage. Sometimes it is as silent as a good night’s sleep,the gardener down the street,the podiatrist who cleans all kinds of feet. Sometimes it is as still as a windless day,a rock buried within clay,having nothing…
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Just one leper
Turn back.Remember your skinso soft and serenewas made cleanwhen you had faith that you were seenbeheld, beloved and believed in. Turn backRemember your heartwas made to sing like a larkto prostrate your lifeand all your deepest longingsin a lullabyfrom your lungs to where you lie. Turn backRemember your souland its songs of thanksgivingso sweet and…
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A Triumphal Ecstasy
Take off your cloaklay it downon this groundamidst the silent slumber of rocks all aroundcolour threaded into colourweaving warmth and wonder togetherso that sun might kiss your skinso that you might begin againto singto vibrate withinawakeningthe sleeping rocks to joyous clamoringof ecstasy and complete surrenderto beauty and even terror.
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These Boxes
When I was a child I was given boxes to grow intolike sinewon bone so my identity might takesome sort of shapein the chaos of society’s landscape. And as I grew these boxes defined mereminding mewho I was resigned to be.This helped a little so I might know how to cross the streetso I might…
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Become
(A Blessing for Blue Christmas) Not all things are brightand brilliantor ready to be birthedin the bustle of this season. The bulk of uswithin our bodiesbeneath this veilis the deep abyss of blueof beingburnedbruisedbut not broken. Believe beyond anything you didor those savage beasts have done to youdoes not define youNo.see how it refines youinto…
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This Barren Tomb
We have journeyed long and hard, into the recesses of our souls, in the darkness of the night, in the unknown and frightful, to find ourselves at an empty tomb, with joy and praise, with love and laughter, and yet with fear. Where are you in this hollow? What is this call to follow you…
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A Good Friday Poem
Forget the formulathe frequency at which we fumble to find a way to figure out our freedom. I know it’s hard to hear for we have been hoodwinked and harpooned into fearand guiltand shamefinding ourselves to blamefor far too long. Maybe it wasbecausethe cross looked like an invitationfor a calculationa plus signwe thought there was…
by Rev Alisha 