Wednesday, December 15, 2010
As the months slide towards
the winter dark, the first pang
of longing stirs, like the
quickening of the unborn child –
the sudden recognition, yet again,
of waiting and of need.
This deep-felt urge was surely felt
each winter, on the darkest fringe
where small fires flickered in the gloom
and men looked east, towards the rim
where every morning brought the sun
a little fainter, lower, cold –
and now we wait another dawn,
a birth of hope and love and trust.
And do we long to see the Son,
or long for longing, long to kiss
the wind of love, its passing felt
by all who light their candles here?
The child stirs in the womb of dark.
We stretch our hands in hope, and wait.
Monday, December 13, 2010
the Advent child, a small, crumpled flower
opening beneath the hard stars.
The tiny clever hand has minute nails
and closes warm around my soul.
The dark eyes seem serene and filled
with unborn wisdom far beyond
the knowledge born of age.
My world contracts to hold this
shining moment in a timeless breath
as the snow falls and the world stops
and all the Advent waiting seems to end
in this new child, this vulnerable love
melting the frozen darkness
from the winter of my heart.
© C.M.M. 12/10
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Each climb to the high places brings
a question: will I come again?
The wind blows, the crow swoops by
on silent wings, upcurved and still
on the flying air, and I no longer
earthbound feel the soaring
and wonder when the flight will end.
The spacious air mocks this
introspection, calls me to
the briefly precious moment
on this thin-earthed crag
where the rock glints hard in the
noonday sun and the fool’s gold
shines at my fingertips
and the downward path curves
into the purple afternoon.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Along the crescent, in the middle of the night,
a hooded figure minces, its tight step
in bondage to its low-slung jeans. It looks along
its shoulder at the road, and then I see
the green glow from the mobile phone
held like a talisman against the dark –
against the loneliness of being young
as other figures seem to taunt
by being three instead of one.
And hidden at the window I observe
this interplay of darkness and of threat
as distant voices call and jeer
and music snatches at the air
in this, the hour of midnight lives
before the silence of the dawn.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
I went out into the startled garden
where the white blossom littered
the ground beneath the scented bush
and shreds of tree lay torn on the ruffled
grass. From a tall chimney a gull
wailed in some unknown grief
and magpies bickered in the holly tree
brittle among the pruned crown's thorns.
No warmth to still the restless mind
or please with easy mindless toil
of pruning, cutting, lifting weeds -
no. This is where we live our days
as light flies over restless sea
and lights on us so fleetingly
that joy results, and glows within -
so come, then, wind, into my soul
and startle me with transience.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Child, you too were this mystery,
this new face shaped and moulded by
its journey into this world’s light,
those dark eyes tightly closed against
the brightness and the gaze of love,
this impassivity of sleep.
Look on the unknown face and know
how passing months will soon reveal
the wants, the tears, the laughter and the love,
the child unfolding like a flower,
the mystery dispelled.
Look, child, look – oh, look at him
and smile, and know the rush of love
for this small stranger in your life –
a new soul born into the world.
C.M.M. 26 May 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Come with me, come to where
the stone circle reaches
to the sunset sky;
come over the cropped grass
where the wind bites at your face.
Come with me to the mound where
the dead are piled
in rickled heaps
of bones picked clean as air
buried with the sky’s claws
their spirits long-flown
beyond the sea-eagles’ soar.
Come with me, oh come.
The anxious birds still call and wheel above
the long-cold hearths,
the sea still seethes and foams below
the cliffs of plated stone.
The past is close – see:
touch it, and know.
Friday, April 02, 2010
in the emptiness of soul
in the silencing of love
in the darkness of loss
come to us, God,
with the steady faith
that you are there
that your power is at work
that the light will come again
that your Son will come to us
in the joy of the Resurrection
and the promise of eternal life
through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Two pebbles in my cold hand
close-nestled in symbolic weight,
one mottled red, resentment red,
the other green and cool as is
the light of God.
The red is gone now to the cleansing sea;
the green held close in hope of what might be.
God grant that rush of light again
and drown my soul in your green tide -
the tide of God.
©C.M.M. Iona, 02/10
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
when travelling by sight -
when stars are bright, are gleaming hard,
the sky as black as it should be
the road an afterthought.
How simple when the fire is warm
to bear the winter's chill -
to feel that fierce suffusing fire
consuming doubt and passing years
as dry things in its path.
I feel the road. Its stony way
is treacherous beneath my feet.
The boredom aches - but if I look
around I see the other grey
and lonely souls whose journey takes
the same lost path as mine.
If I could stop for precious time
to wait and feel and know,
out of the dark surrounding me
the pressure of that unseen light
might come again - might flood the soul -
come, Lord. Come soon. Come now.