Giving Plea

We may lay and rise to meet

Expel desire to compete

Friends and strangers’ hearth for feet

Tread the path discreet

 

Fruit borne plentiful and sweet

Eyes of silence wide asleep

Pierce the mocking vine deceit

Thistle blister seat

 

Longing not for pride or place

Passion forbade saving face

Hope in holy open space

Gentle saving grace

 

hobart ruins

 

Poem and Featured Image of Ellendale, Tasmania by Lisa J. Haynes (C) 2018

Image of ruins near Ross, Tasmania – Mercury Newspaper.

Proclaim Freedom

Fear of what might happen if you leave

Is no good reason to remain

Brokenhearted,

May you have the freedom to proclaim

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me because the LORD has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favour and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion

— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendour. – Isaiah 61:1-3

Nothing but the Blood

I gave away my feathers to a wounded bird, mid-flight

She fondled in her fingers and gazed at colours bright.

Both of us now cold, I wandered down the pale pink hall

Warmed by hands and hearts – reciting heaven, gold, gems and all.

With bravery I wore a cross-shaped medal I didn’t earn

A signed and sealed commission of men has joined the funeral burn.

Though many think the flow of blood is death, despair and strife

I know for sure it’s freedom from guilt and our eternal life.

The darkness that I wear will not do for wedding ball

Patiently, I changed the feathers for a pure white shawl.

 

 

Image credit

Restoration

It’s the things that aren’t said that hurt the most.

I can hear the tower clock chime from my pillow

It is the only constant I hear.

But even this clock;

I envy the care and attention

it receives for its restoration.

I hope to have its constancy at heart.

Spiritus Sanctus:

‘O Holy Spirit, as the sun is full of light, the ocean full of water,

Heaven full of glory, so may my heart be full of thee.’

The Valley of Vision

Season of singing

I love all the unseen things about you

I wait for them to make themselves known

a word, a look, a gesture, a smile

a gift of Love – one treasure I own.

 

When I stand before the body, in the flesh

I am confused. It’s You that I miss.

I respond in words I don’t understand

I lose part of myself in this.

 

Waiting for the unseen,

the centre of our being

to come forward again

In the Spring.

 

When you play, your work, your dream

it is there – the unseen

making music in my ears

as sweet as a song of songs.

 

Sweet fruit. Spring flush

Eat, dear friends, and drink your fill of love¹

The days were Made for this.

The season of singing has come.²

 

Love stronger than death

burns like a Mighty fire

Many waters cannot quench

Nor rivers sweep it away.³

 

By day the Lord directs his love,
    at night his song is with me—
    a prayer to the God of my life. –Psalm 42:8

buds over the stream


¹Song of Songs 5:1

²Song of Songs 2:12

³Song of Songs 8:6-7

Image source: ‘Looking through the trees to the stream’ by John Groves