Good Friday 2018

Blood Red

Bright Red Blooms

Blood red shines brightest – by light of day

White and clean – in the sunlight’s rays

Without the night, there is no day

Day brings hope, when night comes our way

In Sunlight's Rays

White Flowers in the Morning Sun

Darkness hides – a coverlet

In light exposed – a life well lit

A cover shifts, and slides, and slips

And light awaits – to come to grips

With all that’s hidden, oppressed and weak

 

To bring pow’r, relief, and sweet release

Light of Day

Bench shadowed beneath a tree, morning sun ready to break through

30/3/2018

The Tree

A tree stood outside of the village.

Few noticed the tree as they went about the business of their days and nights.

But of those few who saw the tree, and stepped aside from the road to look closer, none would remain as they once were.

All who came to the tree saw their names carved into the timber.

All who kneeled before the tree and reached out to touch and own that they recognized their own name on this tree, grateful that they were named there, found they were washed by the tree’s life-blood, till they were clothed anew, white like light.

By this light were these few of the few given to see their gifts beneath the tree – once again, named with their own name.

Of these few clothed in white light, some would never open their gifts, some would open, but never use that contained within.

But a few of these few would receive, open, and use their own named gifts. They would provide for each other by use of these gifts. They would provide for those whose gifts remained unopened or unused. They would even provide for the passers-by, on the road and in the village.

As these few, of the few, of the few accessed and used their gifts, their gifts increased in depth and beauty and strength – and the few grew themselves, in strength, beauty, joy, insight and peace – their light shone brighter with every use of their gifts.

And those who came to the tree, saw their name engraved there, but would not acknowledge it as their own, nor embrace the tree and its gifts with gratefulness, wandered endlessly.

Unsettled in the village, unsettled on the road, and resentful of the tree…

…The tree stood outside of the village, off the oft-travelled road, but high and lifted up on the hill…

the bestower of life, gifts, restoration and purpose.

22/5/2015

The Tree

 

Sustainer

Crouched, huddled, humbled

Cowering in grief and loneliness

Hunched over, enveloped in darkness

Afraid, ashamed and alone;

Albeit desirous of great comfort, forgiveness, connection,

Emancipation, peace, deliverance

 

And yet, I hear a voice.

Soothing, inaudible – yet not.

Distinct, definitive, refreshing

Dare I turn?

Dare I look upward?

Dare I risk vulnerability?

Light?

 

I must!

I can no longer live in fear and uncertainty.

This is not living.

 

Rolling, unraveling

Standing, turning, reaching

The Voice is Light, and Rock, and Mountain Height

Where the eagle rests,

Out of reach of any who would prevail in the valley

 

Still the voice calls.

I am drawn, but I cannot reach.

I whisper.

I breathe afresh

Deeply, drawing in refreshment

Expelling all that would hinder

 

I call aloud to the Voice, the Rock, the Height above all.

Desperate, pleading, repenting of all that has been my own;

All that has left me entailed to the dark of fear and shame

 

I am lifted up,

On eagle wings,

To lofty peak,

In crevice rest.

Above

Beyond

Safe

Free

Untouchable by darkness

I see the Light shine on me.

Unhindered view

The warmth of wings – of comfort

The security of Rock – fortress

 

I sleep in peace

Nourishment is sweet

No fear of abandonment

The Voice, ever present

 

Only when He has prepared me

Shall we go on from here

Together

One

The Sustainer and the sustained

 

6/3/2015