Caterpillar

I had a lot of caterpillars in my garden this year. They had a fantastic time eating the vegetables that I was trying to grow! Then, having left their mark, they disappeared. And instead I found, in the dark corners under the decking and hanging from the eaves of the shed, cocoons. A few weeks later my garden was filled with butterflies.

In my experience, there are a lot of similarities to a parent watching children grow and change.

In the sunshine

I watched you

Flex and stretch

Take tentative steps

To explore the boundaries of your green world

And discover what lies beyond

Growing and exploring

Expanding your horizons

Unconfined and free.

Then you stopped.

I looked

And you were gone

Out of sight

Shrunk in on yourself

Your world contracted

As you spun a web around yourself

Silently

Shutting all out.

In the darkness

I watched you

Waited for you

To emerge from the confines of your cocoon

To flex and stretch

Open wide your wings

And reveal the unique beauty of you

As you were destined to be

Flying high.

Paper Boat

 ...and here's another, written at a different time, for a different child:

From this source

You were released

To joyfully explore

The endless possibilities and paths

Unbounded

You made your way

Racing the tumbling stream

With excitement

Into the broadening river

To set sail

Effortlessly traversing the wide waters

Until 

The mist descends

And the mighty mountains

Scaled in your youth

Rise into grey

Familiar landmarks vanish

As you are enveloped in the fog

Disoriented

Uncertain

But yet

You are still afloat

And there is still a light

Consistently flashing beacon of hope

Calling through the haze

There is still a way

A path through the rocky waters

To this safe haven.

Future Flourishing

Raising teenagers is challenging. Especially teenagers dealing with the emotions arising from major changes in their lives. I don't always get it right, but I try.  Over the past year I have written a few poems particularly for my children. Here is one:

There are seasons

In us

Around us

And if my flourishing spring

Coincides with your stormy winter winds

Know this:

We are still rooted

Together in the same ground

Foundations firm enough to hold us both

Through the changing weathers.

And I have faith to believe

Your sapling tree can bend

Unbroken by the gale

Strengthened by the flexing

Hoping one day you’ll see

The shelter of my evergreen

Standing close beside you

Until your summer comes.

Rainbow Weather

I wrote this poem last month, when feeling quite low, but didn't share it. I was reminded of it today sitting looking out of my living room window at the strange mixture of grey clouds and sunshine, and then a rainbow appeared...

Some days there is a shift

in the quality of light;

A fragile ray of hope

Cutting through the oppressive grey

The overwhelming damp

Transforms into sparkling drops

And rising up

From its unknowable source

An arc of crimson, teal and violet joy

Stretches out

To touch what we cannot grasp.

Some days there is a shift

in us;

A whisper daring us

To dream a little longer

Risk reaching a little further 

Through the rain

To creatively redefine our world

Allow ourselves to believe that we can

Find a different lens

To bend the darkness

Until all that is refracted

Is the light of love.

The Way

My reading recently has revolved around journeys (The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry which is a novel by Rachel Joyce, and God Unbound by Brian McLaren which charts his journey to the Galapagos and finding God in the wild), and in my pondering around the subject and reflecting on my own journey over the past year, I was reminded of a poem that I started to write in October 2022 at the point where I was considering changing job/career. I figured that it was time to finish it. 

Sometimes our journey can be surprising; sometimes it can take us years to find the right path, but I believe that we have a guide who never gives up on us.

You mark the lines in the sand

define the boundaries

plan the approach

and lay out the path.

But stubbornly I choose another route,

and stumble.

You raise the signposts

draw the arrows

stand with outstretched arms

point to the road ahead.

But I view the hazy horizon,

and turn away.

Still you plot the course

set the bearing on my compass

write down directions

and give me the map.

But as the needle wavers,

I look elsewhere.

So you draw yet closer

hold the map

and my reluctant hand.

Chart our trajectory,

illuminate

and lead.

Until walking together,

I find the way.

Relief

The English word 'relief' has a multitude of meaning and uses. Back in January someone asked me if I felt relieved about something that was happening and it got me thinking... I looked at the various definitions in the dictionary and pondered how the word's origins are linked to the idea of being raised up or elevated. Then I wrote this:

You step in to take my place
when I am too worn out to work,
Provide assistance
when I am in need.

In you I find respite 
from the tension.
I sigh,
exhale,
and expand as the pressure lifts.
Released from this
too long carried,
crushing load.

On this lowly canvas
you repeatedly stamp your mark
until the truth stands out.
My world is coloured 
by your hand
mapping the highs and lows
with shades of hope.

With contrast 
and care,
you raise me up again.

Dry Bones

I love the story in Ezekiel 37 of the Valley of Dry Bones... how God speaks to the bones:

"Watch this: I’m bringing the breath of life to you and you’ll come to life. I’ll attach sinews to you, put meat on your bones, cover you with skin, and breathe life into you. You'll come alive and realise that I am God!"  (vs 5-6, Message version)

Some months ago I was reflecting on the story and how God choses to re-build bit by bit, layer on layer. It's not an instant all-at-once thing. God has an order of doing things so that the bones are truly made whole from the inside out. God's not in the business of surface restoration.

For too long we laid

drained and dry

beneath the scorching sun

as if the heat could bring life

to our fragile broken bones.

For too long waited

in the desert place

observing the desolation

and hoping we’d have the strength

to somehow hold together.

For too long

silent.

But you spoke,

whispered truth to the winds

shook the foundations

of all we knew

and promised to rebuild.

Bit by bit

layer upon layer

tendons, fresh and skin

unhurried in the re-construction

you ordered the scattered parts

of who we were

to make us who we are

standing whole again.

And then you

breathed on us

and we,

inhaling the fresh air

of new possibilities,

came to life.

On the shores of Loch Long

A lot has changed in my life over the past 10 months. And it's going to take a long time to emotionally process the changes. Finding space to just be and reflect and write a bit again helps. Here's todays offering:

You take the high road,

I’ll take the low road…

Winding its way down

To the shores of Loch Long

Where the waves roll 

In 

and over me.

Here I allow myself to stop

And breathe

Observe the ebb and flow

Depositing the fragments 

of the years.

Detritus 

and treasures.

Here in silence

I walk the shores;

Acknowledge the debris

The fragile strata

Adrift and crumbling

The pain of breaking

Letting go.

Recognise the gems

The precious stones

Emerging from the battering

Smooth and strong

Seen again.

Here in seclusion

I hold the tangled mess;

Accept 

the weather-beaten knot

Of frayed rope

Unanchored

Cast upon the shore.

Cease 

striving to find

or understand

The beginning and the end

But simply sit

With the threads I hold

And weave into this fragile cord

The pain and joy

Until

I create something 

new

and beautiful.