Words lose their meaning
Thoughts become intentions
Mind merges with heart
Silence is prayer

Each second a lifetime
Empty and full
Breath and spirit
Are the same

On the trees
On the mountains
On the seas
They are the same

A world lives and dies
On the breath of the wind
The spirit moves in all
Everything is one

Day of Wonder

Day of Wonder

It’s the day

of the rising
and the leaving
and the emptiness
with first
the disbelief
and the shock
and the fear
and the helplessness
then the wondering
about the how
and the what
and the what next
and the speculation
and the circling
round it
and round it
with the argument
and the discussion
and gradually
the waiting
and the silence
and the waiting,
and the wondering
and the waiting
and the nearly
the meeting.


In my temporary isolation
I find myself thinking, wondering,
the kind of thoughts
a child might have
about the state of things
and about nature

If I sniff my indoor plants and flowers
will they hold on to the virus?
Does the grass breathe?
If someone coughs or sneezes
nearby will it be affected?
What about the newly budding
leaves on the trees?

We’re given guidelines about
paper, cardboard, plastics, cotton
but nothing about the more organic things
Lying here I muse about this possible
“Worst case scenario” – what if:

the grasses, trees, rivers, seas,
the very earth itself were to receive,
harbour and hold this infection
would there then be an end
that is not inevitably final?

CM 2020

A Kind of Pass Over

A Kind of Pass Over

If I could only
always be
calm and stately
like a tree
standing strong
under the skies

so little birds
could nest in me;
and on the ground
against my trunk
those I love
would rest on me.

Here instead
I’m only me
a creature feeling
about a storm
coming to be.

But if I was
like that strong tree
I’d simply stand
firm but free
and let the storm
pass over me

I see the tree
it stands unmoved
as if to prove
this thing to me:
if it comes
let it be

the storm will pass
the earth will calm;
and whether or no
It leaves some harm
in the afterglow
there will be peace

and as for me
in what is left
I’ll be at ease

A Scented Recollection

I’m not too fond of roses

but I have a memory

of the pale pink kind

growing near our kitchen door

and how, on a summer evening

when I took the dog out for

his last pee of the day

that pale pink scent would creep,

wisp-like, around the gable end,

carried on a soft breeze,

and enfold me; and it seemed

in the stillness of that moment,

that a corner of my heart

would be filled

with a sense of peace

We sleep
some may even rest
while others sleepless
lie thinking about

We listen
to the silent streets
proclaiming our lives
are indoors now, and now,
but not tomorrow

We live
in this, our moment,
as all we have,
our precious now, is now
not tomorrow

We open
to the what and how
our lives are this 
knowing each day, today,
is not tomorrow 

A Creative Response

Not since the last war
has the world faced such devastation
and I wonder, did we become
soft in our expectations
living in comfort
mostly, though not all of us
– But those others – we didn’t
have to look or see.

Now our slice of life
crumbles like stale cake
and the stuff we relentlessly
threw away has become
precious. And we feel
the hardship of our fears
as we try out social distancing
and self isolating solitude

The killer steals around unseen,
the murder weapon is in
our own hands. It has come to this
we must lock ourselves in
to stop spreading a disease
we don’t even know we have.
to protect ourselves and
all the people out there,
without discrimination.

The distant past echoes, with cries of
Bring out your dead!
And the numbers rise
alarmingly, daily.
The streets are becoming
a kind of quiet wasteland
that starts to press against
our locked doors

Yet, out of the gloom
the heroes are emerging.
Health workers, Volunteers,
Compassionate shopkeepers
of the old fashioned kind
Neighbours checking in,
online cheer leaders
and more.

In a world become greedy
for more of everything
is this our call to waken up ,
to see why the roses no
longer smell so sweet?
All is changed. Now we wait
for another kind of change
not knowing in what form
it will come. But always,
yes, always, we must hope

Whom We Meet

In this , the dark time

of long nights

and short dark days
we may long for 

the emerging light.

But first, let us mourn awhile
our many losses
And, yes, let us grieve
for those who left 
without a goodbye.
Let us live for a time
in this darkness
so that our hearts can heal,
so that our hearts can enlarge
through our pain. 

For the totality of this darkness 

does end, and what comes after 
may depend on our facing 
our ghosts and dragons

Or, perhaps we might see them

as our camouflaged angels.
If we wrestle with them like Jacob
did, we may surprise ourselves
and come come away limping
with a different name


If I can 
see the dawn
even in pain
then all is 
well and I have 
received a gift

If I can
go out 
and feel the breeze 
on my face
then I have received
a gracious gift 

If someone 
on my door
and is welcomed in
then for me this is
a wonderful gift

If I wake up
and I can breathe
then this 
is the gift of life
to be cherished