Tuesday, July 31, 2012

in the air

In the air

where wild birds soar,
free-wheeling, released,
conquering city smog.

In the air

above this mild, mean, melee
of trampled faces,
broken dreams.

In the air

where cleansing light meets gentle breeze,
no towers, walls, defences
to block brightness, darken, squeeze.

In the air

we'll meet Him.

In the air,

we'll greet Him.

We'll finally be free,
in the air. 

Friday, July 20, 2012

as a fool returns to her folly

my heart hurts

I want to keep striving, keep trying,
to swallow that vomit,
reinvestigate whatever taste I may have left behind,
chew over the chunks,
so maybe I'll realise
why I spat it out in the first place.

my heart hurts

You could grind me in a mortar,
make me dust with a pestle,
then still all my pieces would strain
to re-form,
in order to repeat
the foolishness I've repented of.

It's not a sin,
it's just stupid,
the tempting kind of stupid
that spreads salve on the hole in my hurting heart.

Friday, July 13, 2012

from praises of panadol

My hollowed body and heavy head have kept me sofa bound,
house tied,
as I rally slowly from brief illness.

I had almost forgotten to pray,
reach out,
seek mercy,
because I have paracetemol,
so the worst passed quickly, almost painlessly.
Fretful fever, ravaged throat and thumping head soothed swiftly,
suffering curtailed.
So easy to forget you in scarcity of need,
elevating gift to the glory of the giver,
praising PanadolTM instead of You.

But when I fell, and shivered, and shook on the couch,
room spinning, knees knocking,
shortened breath and screaming mind,
I remembered that without your grace, I'd be dead,
and for a moment or three, I was afraid.

Centuries of small steps:
hand washing,
miracle drugs,
room ventilation,
corset freedom,
plentiful red meat,
clean water,

countless quotidian blessings
conferred lavishly by You
are really all that separates me from
crumbled, forgotten headstones telling tales of
deathly flu,
terrifying plagues,
early deaths
and the truth of human frailty.

You've known all along it takes the rush of the storm
to quicken our pulse
and draw us to you,
calling you from your cushion of rest
to calm and to guide.

So in my brief gasp,
freed undeservedly by you from drawn out fearing,
I echo with David the blessing You deserve.

"Praise the Lord, my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Praise the Lord, my soul,
and forget not all his benefits—
who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion,
who satisfies your desires with good things
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s."

Sunday, July 8, 2012

hearing Psalm 142

I cry aloud to you, Yahweh,
I lift up my voice to you for mercy,
groaning from the cavern of my bed.

I know I'm only in a cave of deep, dark doona,
that soft pillows surround me,
blocking out bright morning light.

But my spirit is faint within me,
My eyes keep wanting to close.
The path I fear opens up to me,
full of dips and pot holes.

The Devil is in the details,
setting traps,
exploiting the possibilities open to him.
The snare of self-hate,
triggers abounding.
Ambushes of angst,
pinning me down,
robbing me of joy.

This is not 'normal' Monday-itis,
it is any day,
every day.
It is daily life plagued by overwhelming weariness,
chronic sadness
and little green pills.

Look to my side and you'll see I have no right hand man,
Look to my left and you'll see I wear nobody's ring.
No one is concerned for me,
I am the centre of nobody's life.
No one inquires about my soul.*

I cry to you oh Yahweh,
you are my refuge;
the lap I can hide on and bury my face in. 

You are my portion in the land of the living,
today you the only one tying me to that place.

Set me free from my invisible prison,
this weight of wearying worry and woe!
Break these shackles so I can praise you. 
Free me,
that I may praise your beneficent name!

*in God's rich blessing to me, these three lines are hyperbole. The rest isn't. 

Thursday, July 5, 2012

the only one

In a dark, dark house
down a dark, dark stair
in a dark dark, cellar
is a dark, dark door
behind the dark, dark door
is a dark, dark room
and in the dark, dark room
is a dark, dark secret,
and you're the only one who knows that it's there.