Month: January 2011

Perhaps it’s the weather,
the fear of cold’s long fingers
creeping under doorframes
making this beloved town so timid.

Except, in spring’s wild warming
the blankets stay wrapped around ears,
phones on call display,
caution primly masquerading as risk management.

Ah, but the sweet taste of boldness…
Viagra of the heart,
one drop in each water cooler
to stiffen resolve
– en-courage, en-liven,
make frisky with possibilities.

Pensions and prestige
lure mountain sheep from rocky heights
to nibble mildly in their pens
… eagles ensnared
in the tangle of lining their nests,
forgetting how to fly.

Wild sheep need no shepherd,
eagles no falconer.

A whiff of freedom,
one sip of compassion’s rich bittersweetness
brings confidence to ruffle feathers,
willingness to soar.

When the pedestals have all been sold
and stand as lonely reminders
of a beautiful god
now manifest instead of adored

… when mass has forced energy
out of the Christ holiday
so that love and questions are all that remain

… when the certain shape of God
has been melted down
and dissipated into its billions of incarnations

… can we still sing praise?

Like Inuit in snowy spring
we grab onto rough hide
worn with years of pleasure,
pulling together on the strength of our circle.
Our many hands – some weathered,
some strong from sewing,
some weakened by the hunt,
some smooth with vital possibility
– secure us to the playing field.
We lean out, occasionally slip,
and rise again in shared power.
Our blanket is patchy,
secured by the tension of our alert presence.

And in the centre,
a place for joy –
where our collective radiance
spills laughter over each attempt at flight,
murmurs encouragement
as we show our skill,
our willingness to be tossed.
In gathering for play,
for honouring our circle
and the circles that extend from it,
we feel the glowing incarnation
and give voice to our genuine worship.