Byzantine Bindings

Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Being true to your destiny

Listener to the Voice
Watcher of the World
in its infancy
in the chaos
spirit hovering over deep
contended with distractions
hooking the flesh
catching the passions
life becomes
constantly moving
in playful involvement
various guises
making pacts
moving on
retaining the polished
mirror of mindfulness.

Monday, 17 November 2014

What the Ancestors Said

They came when bidden
as if they
where there all the time
and I
foolishly thinking they were ever absent
landshaping my soul

there never was anywhere to go
words to say
residing here
manifestation in every breath
dust in the eye again

thank you for the constancy
in the ordinary
with every breath
every heartbeat
life force
what can I ever know more than that

Sunday, 16 November 2014

Waiting in the Wings

in wings of time
for the necessary
conditions arising
opening the door of the heart

Put simply
without chant to lilt
or lullaby
otherwise would be

timing is of the essence
sweet smell
right time
right place
for insect

worrying and wondering
misses the point
direct action
based on intuition
saves the day
begins to
make sense of the lifetime.

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Taking the King's Shilling is One Thing.

On bombs
and bombed
rifle shot
bullet torn flesh
shrapnel shred soldier
men women
and children
oh, yes, the children
caught in sudden
unprepared bleeding crossfire
blown to bits
who all this war is for
lives lain down
relentlessly day after day
somewhere in the world

I ask a blessing
quiet simplicity
to touch reality
in my own heart
to release the anger
giving it no space
see the ghostly
not repeat
the future
live in the present
seeing its truth clear as a bell.

Monday, 10 November 2014

After Tea

Trying to make sense of it all in the River Gardens

I say
You'll be ok

I bless/break the digestive into little pieces to ease the passage

It doesn't seem to taste the same these days

How about another sip of tea?
Angled head inclined to awkwardness
a sipping sucking clumsy lip trembling bite at it
half a thimbleful clears the crumbs

I keep smiling and bless/break the sweetness of jaffa cake host into quarters
What's that you say?
Just a biscuit mum...
I can always manage a biscuit
said more from rote than commitment
There's no taste in any of it these days
I could be eating anything

Tongue cleaning round teeth and gums
and crumbs
fall on the bedclothes
catch in folds
for some reason to do perhaps with propriety
long lost standards
slipped a division or two
gathered in
to fill the thirteen baskets
as if by some miracle
they will pass to the poor.

Blessing  breaking smiling
offering all I can in the way of
Silently praying for the strength to be what I can
be what's needed
who are we mum
you and I?
somehow reflecting dignity identity
into a hopelessly awkward canvas

Nothing is lost to a god who counts sparrows
I hope not
but evidence is a bit thin
on this side of the veil.

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

Butterfly Soul

perhaps we are who we are
where we are
only by virtue of
where we thought we were
what we thought we knew 
about the world