Poems

What a Way!

What a way to be,
in life!-
Open vessel to receive
the Abba-love of God,
poured out with,
Oh, such lavishness:

Against the Cataclysmic
turmoil
of all ages,
the darkened sky,
earth shaking with
its violence,

‘What kind of clown is this
who came into our tent,
made home of it,
and played his games
among us?

What are the teachings of this
Clown of mine,
that I should weave into
the warp and woof of life?
What is His foolishness that
now is wise?

No more some scattered
shattered-fractured
‘Yes’-
-a part of me, of us-
but all of me, in Him

Are we embarrassed?
Have we been running,
lemming-like,
to our Emmauses-

There are no Ups and Downs,
no Ins and Outs,
no Now and Yet to Come.
For by His throne
and in his wounded side

Why gather
for this Festival of
Pasch?
Why come into
this time of Passing,
over?

What is the meaning
of these Holy Days,
this Festival which now
we enter on?

‘Give me your hand’
to wipe a tear,
to make a cup of tea:
Do not be unbelieving but believe
that I am here,
before you and within;-

Abba, a chink
is all you get,- for now:
but chink enough for you
where light and heat steal in
to meet my cold,

Them bones, Them bones-
are some good bones
for living to the full;

Head bone for thinking well
on all that is