Poetry selection A

The world around me and the time before me is dark,
I see not where I place my feet.
But You clasp me hand and hold me, safe in Your arms.
You are my perfect Guide.
My Friend, my Saviour, my God.
I know now where I’m truly headed,
And every step on this road with You is JOY!

A single drop forms on an unnatural branch.
Gathering weight it stretches and falls.
A pure crimson sphere,
Invisible in the dark land.

A pool gathers at the foot of the tree.
Some seeps into the cold earth.
Flies buzz like vultures,
Drinking the blood of Christ.

A trickle turns into a roaring stream.
A torrent of tears and blood,
The river of life,
Running swift and straight.

Mysterious love wrought from hate,
Healing from bitter anguish.
The river grows and trees grow by it.
Wounds are washed clean.

I hear the rattle of the railway tracks,
As I wave goodbye I let out a sigh.
When are you coming back?
Will you be gone for long?

Last night I was a butterfly,
Surveying the world through insect eyes
I felt the breeze beneath my wings,
And sampled flowers like a king.

This morning I woke upon my bed,
And sensed creation with a human head.
I rose and dressed to greet another day,
Of talk and rest and work and play.

But was that flight in truth the fantasy it seems,
Or am I just a poet in my insect dreams?

"Once upon a time I dreamed I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. Suddenly I awakened. There I lay, myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming that I was a butterfly or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man."
 - Chuang Tsu   (Chinese Philosopher)

I say I love you,
But do I lie?
Words are ethereal,
Like clouds in the sky.
I say you warm my life,
You dispel the cold.
But when night returns,
Will I be so bold?

If we were thirsty,
Would I give you my cup?
If we were drowning,
Would I hold you up?
If we were freezing,
Would my cloak be yours?
If danger threatened you,
Would I pause?

Styrofoam seas and fake plastic trees,
A sheet glass sky with imitation flies.
Cardboard cliffs - Is the world skewwhiff?
No, not the world but I.

[Future Soldiers]
They rolled off the production line,
Prepacked in camo green & pine.
Rigorously tested to lab and VR optimum.
Finished with an electronic tag and bar-coded bottom.
We watched them die on CNN,
But they missed the Oscar ceremony.
How rude.

How did Jesus laugh?
Was it a deep booming chortle
which shook the synagogue,
startling the priests and
shocking polite Pharisees.
Was it a contagious, infectious,
Unstoppable, breath-gasping giggle
which built up and up
and crescendoed
bringing crowds to tears and their knees.
Or perhaps it was just a warm smile
and a still small chuckle;
despite the circumstances it reassured people
that there truly was better to come.
Perhaps all these together.

Could Jesus laugh?
Feeling both the ache of eternity
and the pain of the present;
the suffering of the sick,
the heat of hell.
Knowing the trails which lay ahead,
friends deserting and loved ones leaving;
the weight of every sin and sorrow
nailed to his own agony.

So Jesus wept and Jesus laughed,
as do we.

In the bustle of Broad street
you’re the only one in no hurry.
I’m afraid I was so deep in thought then,
I almost didn’t notice you.
To you I’m probably just another figure in the crowd,
but, I wonder, do we share a common purpose?
For 800 years people have studied in this place, I’m sure you know,
here are vast repositories of knowledge and truth,
mankind’s collective mental triumph!
Here we can both find the things we seek.

Stepping into Blackwells,
warmth and books cocoon around me.
At first my browsing is playful and immature,
then suddenly the immensity strikes home.
Here row on row, shelf on shelf
are a thousand thousand books I’ll never read.
Intense and frantic I grab and skim book after book,
like a child with a bag of sweets stuffing in more and more
though his mouth is full.
Ideas here have far more mass than the
tones of ink and paper that support them,
they twist and stretch reality,
engulf me, crush me.

I burst out onto Broad street again.
With a shock, the cold relieves me,
and I see you haven’t moved.
Can physics and epistemology bind your wounds?
Will psychology loose the chains of injustice,
and logic break every yoke?
Out here in the daylight they seem like wasted words,
you are beyond their embrace,
beyond their event horizon.

I speak the logic of our love.
For my heart has this consistency:
It’s all enduring love for thee.
And this world will be one day complete
iff our two hearts meet.

[note ‘iff’ spoken as ‘if and only if’ in logicese]