Our position does not give purpose
Just our faith.
Ours is a Kingdom which cannot be shaken.

An infinite dome of sky was expanded above us
an ocean of firmament of which the dwellers among
houses and mountains can have but little conception.
The troops of glittering stars,
the dark, the shrouding night,
the unaccustomed voices of my companions,
deepened the awe that oppressed me, and,
as I stood between them, I became as earnest
and occupied as themselves.
I forgot everything but the incomprehensible grandeur
of the universe revealed to me,
and the majestic sweep of planets
across the field of the telescope.
What a freshness of awe and delight came over me!
What floods of thought came,
wave upon wave, across my mind!
And how insignificant I felt
before this wilderness of worlds!
- Hesba Stretton – The Ghosts in the Clock Room in Charles Dickens’ tale ‘The Haunted House’.
————————————–Photo by Greg Rakozy
Photo by Jake Hills
Years ago we dreamt of a foster child
before our numbers grew
We believed a child
could grow in our home
yet affection would misconstrue
no desire to return the favours you give
no gratitude for the way we live
With this in mind I watered the soil
to love and care for you
Where your heart lies
there your treasure lies too
Give that treasure to all around
without payment or compromise
silently waiting to share in another’s
heart.. listening for a beating or breath
only silence rings.
I run to double the beats in my ears
double the breath to push down my fears
that although surrounded I am alone
They form a ring around me
facing out, their backs do not reply
I fall to the ground, prostate
on the carpet that I laid, soft and new.
Sobbing echoes against these antique walls
as if occupied by many grieving widows
will my soul haunt here if I pour out my all?
I stare at the golden hue
bursting through the retro windows
let the golden rays kiss my face
and forever remember that He says to me
“I love you.”
I feel I have stepped back from a sharp precipice
as I gaze at the crisp perfect circumference
of the moon in full bloom
I casually stroll through the door
return the key to my sanctuary
‘It belongs to me, too’ I whisper.
The honey on my lips sublime
sears the sting of wind chapped sores
The only outward sign of pain
The rest I store inside, until next time.
At break of day our Padre
Awakens and stirs me
Words and phrases exchanged
Ruminating upon this mind
The purveyor of fine intricacies,
Subtleties and non-sensicalities
Steeped in Pathos here relieved
To bathe in bathos
At the wink of an eye upon pillow
We exchange a therapeutic peek-a-boo
With the clouded sun peeping out
Casting light round and round the garden