Resurrection Day

Nothing should compare to this:
our singularity that, with earthquake force,
shakes stones, baffles Rome, turns
the mourners from the tomb with lightning conviction.

And day on day this truth remains,
though I have dishes to wash
and the ever-turning of the present
makes me more a sullen Peter returning to his net

than a Mary, fleeing the dead, for dear life –
yes, for Life
had said her name and was here.

Silent Day

“So because of the Jewish day of Preparation, since the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there.”
(John 19:42)

This in-between space is our home ground:
the time after glories and horrors alike,
the time before or after sleep –
and sometimes, sometimes it is a stretch,

sometimes a quest, or a rest.
Yet the tomb is cracking open. The ground
is trembling, if you keep your ear close.
And life is at work even as death is at work,
the silent whisper, ever, ever.

Holy Day

I gospel myself out the door,
toddler in tow, schedule awry,
trusting the carboot to have what I need,
trusting the grace that orchestrates the day

while, afluster, I stride across
traffic lights in petroleum-fueled step,
eager to evade the Good Friday appeal because,
this day as per others, I’ve no change to spare.

I gospel the fissures where the mind tends to fizzle,
the legacy of this morning’s early vigil,
my son keeping watch in Gethsemane while
my weak-willing flesh resisted the prayer.

I gospel my slack-hearted refusal of gospel.
Though Christ plays
in a thousand places, I
fragment my mind in a thousand spaces.
Calvary only is needed today.
Gospel me, here and always.

If Ye Love Me

So many ways to wash feet:
the posture, not the precise nature of the action, matters – poised
at ground level, familiar with the dust
and grime of the day’s streets,
outer garments shed to throw off all show,
the creak in the knees accompanying the splash
and the mess of the self washing off in the bowl.

So many ways, yet I
am more comfortable to be Peter:
indignant, swinging
between pride and gung-ho humility,
reserved and haughty in equal measure,
more at home with excuses
than the flagrant shame of love.

If I would be a disciple, I need only start
with the crick in these old, ossified joints
as I teach them to get love’s job done.

The dishes you will always have with you

and the laundry, piled up
in crevices and corridors as though to say,
“You can hide me, but you cannot do without me.”
Toys underfoot and books scattered wide
amongst other toddler treasures:
a measuring cup, a rooster,
a brochure considered la mode before
some other fancy flitted through the growing mind.
Some things are permanent, like
dishes, some new –
an Amen! after grace.
Unsettled nights and
teary mornings only serve to say
that all this may pass, but God
it is good that it finds me at all.

Why Lent makes sense to me (and why I need the other seasons too)

The Swelling Year

I grew up very Protestant. So Protestant that I remember asking my RE teacher when I was about 10, “What’s the difference between Catholics and Christians?” It was in a “Do you have any questions for your teacher?” section of the workbook, and my teacher diplomatically replied, “Ask your parents about this.” I can’t remember if I asked them or how they answered if I did. But I grew up with a clear sense that Catholics (and probably Anglicans) valued tradition more than relationship with God. As such, I saw all traditions – Lent with them – as meaningless distractions from God.

As a young adult, and a reluctant Anglican, I came to find that Lent was actually a season that fit me quite nicely. My struggles with mental illness had made me acutely aware of my own dust, and had also made me search to recover the much-needed and…

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Momentum gathering – and some exciting news

The Swelling Year

This week has seen lots of progress for The Swelling Year. I’ve finished selecting the poems and the first draft has been through its first check-over by another pair of eyes. I’ve also started the process with Lulu, the publisher I’ve chosen, and done the initial set-up of the crowdfunding campaign at Pozible. Lots of action!

Most excitingly, I’ve teed up a collaboration with my highly talented artist friend Robert Kingdom, who designed the banner for this site. Robert will be contributing some of his artwork to the project, and I’m looking forward to keeping you posted on what this will involve. In the meantime, here’s a sample of his work. Go and check out more at his website. And stay tuned for the next update!

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