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.

Moving (on) day

Broadsheet or tabloid

we pick the paper

that tells the story we want to hear

and wrap our fragile vessels,

Feigning protection

by obscurity. 

Here no-one sees the cracks

until the container shatters.

They tell me pottery

mended with gold

is more beautiful. 

But as I watch 

the unconstrained pieces fall, 

I wonder

if the potter's plan

was always to make a mosaic.

Resilience

Over a month ago I had covid. I am still struggling with fatigue, constant muscle pain and brain fog. I feel unable to think half the time, never mind trying to write. But today, too tired to do much else, I lay in bed vaguely thinking about resilience (or lack of it) and reading a bit about various theories related to it. And wrote this piece.

Pull yourself together
and just get over it,
never really got there.
Forge on through
Grit your teeth strength,
gave up weakly.
Stressed
and compressed,
we choose to acknowledge
the forces
and constraints.
Choose just to be.
Present
and aware,
we face the mountains
head-on.
THAT
problem we perceive,
WHICH
we have the ability to reinterpret,
DOES NOT KILL US
we are still here.
Still responding
with conscious choices.
Surrounded by others,
we opt to take the next step
that
MAKES US STRONGER