Present

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
despairing
until
the meeting.

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
tomorrow

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 

Living

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

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

This

Deep sadness close to despair 

Can’t find a reason to be
Feels like I’m adrift 
alone on a darkening sea
Lights have gone out one by one
Then three at a time, leaving no-one 
anywhere near:
shadows gathered around the sun
There’s not even a breathe of wind
Only a dreadful lonely stillness, 
the kind that feels empty but not 
peaceful
If I dig down a bit I can feel;
but it’s all too much.
Like diving to the bottom of the sea; 
and having to struggle back up 
just so I can breathe
At least I still 
want to breathe 
Maybe there is some trick in that
30 November 2019