Keilor-bound at the wheel, a man plucks his middle brow over the hill. Trucks speak in whistling brakes; cars speak in blinkers; billboards speak in covered-up breaths and we, doubting ourselves, tremble forth. Across gorges and bridges, organ-pipes hum in the silent chorale of a wasted commute. Gold glints through gum-trees; grace glints in mirrors.Continue reading “Redeem the Commute”
Author Archives: Matthew Pullar
Doxa
White though simple carries every colour. Glory – small word – is manifold. Break apart light and find prismatic wonder. None of this has words. What then? What sounds can be made to stir hearts? The Word – singular yet many pleats, Many rooms – beams and breathes from beginning. How can we reveal? WeContinue reading “Doxa”
The Long Drizzle
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote… (Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales) Finally the clothes are dry, the air is dry, the leaves fall in their way. Finally April ends with such crispness and we emerge, knowledge of winter on the edges of skin yet our bodiesContinue reading “The Long Drizzle”
The Last Post
Clouds drift; distant, the birds sing. The courtyard sunk in silence sits. Somewhere cars continue the day, and floating in the distance thoughts of mateship dearly bought, and peace woven where no need for war had driven us to foreign shores, repeat: We shall remember them. This has no glory, only silence. And in theContinue reading “The Last Post”
Catechism 45
Is baptism with water the washing away of sin itself? No, only the blood of Christ and the renewal of the Holy Spirit can cleanse us from sin. (New City Catechism) God, no water is enough. Stains worsen when washed deeper in; this is the deepest, from Adam to now. Only blood can washContinue reading “Catechism 45”
Break O’Day
Written Easter Sunday in Pyengana, Tasmania Dedicated to the people of Break O’Day Parish, St Helens Drink from the brook. The day sparkles the hills in their joy. Look to the mountains: there comes your help. Springing forth from caves with rolled-away stones breaks the day, breaks the day. Singing in haze, this resurrection joyContinue reading “Break O’Day”
The Womb of the Morning
(Written on Holy Saturday in Bicheno, Tasmania) The oath must still hold true yet waiting dries expectation; the dew of your youth evaporates in the tomb. Now: what the LORD said to David’s Lord is unchanged, but the rods of foes seem the triumphant ones today. Only Pilate’s wife regrets the washing of hands; onlyContinue reading “The Womb of the Morning”
Lent: Enough 6
Hold tight that I will not hold tight fists clenched, to world. when all its passing joys toy. Hold tight that I may tie my heart to Yours. When sight and touch fail me, hold my nothing in Your everything. More than enough, more than all joy, all glory – nakedness transfigured, brightness outContinue reading “Lent: Enough 6”
Lent: Enough 5
What warmth I hide in will soon grow cold. All Peter’s false fires, Adam’s cloak of leaves, will burn out, fade, and leave nakedness in ash. Clothe me. My shame is always before me. Nothing hides from Your sight what should be white, yet’s stained like blood. O God. I stand – naked, dust. YouContinue reading “Lent: Enough 5”
Lent: Enough 4
Praise Him that all our rags have failed: more longing then for Heaven’s clothes. And praise Him too that faces fall so that we seek His more. Enough that we now dimly see, and in ourselves feel death’s sentence. Enough that we have glimpsed this sight and die to know itsContinue reading “Lent: Enough 4”
The Consolations of Writing 