…the war he brought back with him is never far away in this suburb. (Steven Carroll, The Gift of Speed) Do you remember water from the rock? How you quarried homes in this ancient soil, when these broad meadows were the stuff of dreams? Remember when the men came back from years and years ofContinue reading “At the Right Time (Glenroy Lent #8)”
Category Archives: Devotional
Closed Til April (Glenroy Lent #7)
Nothing else open at this time, only this one ageing witness to morning weakness. Yet even the shop at the station’s closed – “til April”, as though the station itself were fasting. In uncomfortable chairs, a man sleeps, unlikely to remember the morning trains, and outside the transit of ash to dawn, a vermilion promiseContinue reading “Closed Til April (Glenroy Lent #7)”
Avenue (Glenroy Lent #6)
What a discrepancy between the joyful winging of birds and the fear in men and women… (Jean Vanier, The Broken Body) And how one cricket starts a neighbourhood symphony in the grass of our roaming near the concrete of our homing in these streets and these footpaths at a Friday-pink dusk while the street inContinue reading “Avenue (Glenroy Lent #6)”
The Dream of Being Local (Glenroy Lent #5)
Distance disturbs my orientation. When I calculate how long it takes from A to B, I live inside my cosy lie that B is only down the street, that all my life can be spanned by feet. But freeway exits dominate. I name streets and suburbs like family, yet these are not local, only yourContinue reading “The Dream of Being Local (Glenroy Lent #5)”
Streets to Live In (Glenroy Lent #4)
For now, where do we live? These streets are made for walking: quiet, reflective, built atop a hill where the cityscape sinks beneath a thoughtful gaze. No walls to be broken, no walls to repair; watered gardens greet the roaming eye, and here an expectant couple waits at the edge of the evening street. FruitContinue reading “Streets to Live In (Glenroy Lent #4)”
Wheatsheaf (Glenroy Lent #3)
Some hands hold their stories tight; others hold them open, to say, Here I came when the war was done, or, Here I lost my mother. Hands cupped like hearts line the street; stories filling houses beat. Old street names speak of sheaves of wheat; some go out weeping, some sing, some, sleeping, dream ofContinue reading “Wheatsheaf (Glenroy Lent #3)”
Wednesday’s Colours (Glenroy Lent #2)
Fire is the colour of the eastbound sun lighting the face of the dusty sky. Ash is the colour of this roadwork black, of tarmac where the plane lost flight. Red is the colour of the traffic light, gold the colour in the new day’s eye, and ash to ash is this road we drive;Continue reading “Wednesday’s Colours (Glenroy Lent #2)”
Glenroy Lent: Long Shrift
Suburb has its own time. Nestled just beneath city’s scheduled view, it sits when city runs. It holds deep memories and secrets, left in garages, holds hopes in council offices. Roadwork punctuates the day’s first lines. Promises in orange signs declare: something soon is happening. Prepare. You may have left your lunch behind, may haveContinue reading “Glenroy Lent: Long Shrift”
In Transit
…lucky to be leafless: Deciduous reminder to let go. (Eugene Peterson, “Blessed are the poor in spirit”) Lost in auto-pilot, I find myself, false turn on false turn, circling in this airport country where lanes diverge to let the suitcase-laden taxi-bound find ways to cities, and ways away. A loop, and again I am whereContinue reading “In Transit”
“The thick darkness where God was”
This is what must first be given to the painting, a harmonious warmth, an abyss into which the eye sinks, a voiceless germination… (Paul Cézanne) How often is he shown with those horns of light, as though his head were itself full of the brightest luminescence and two cracks, two holes had formed inside his skullContinue reading ““The thick darkness where God was””
The Consolations of Writing 