Monday, January 08, 2007

New poem


Cumulus is stacked
high in accumulated layers
of grey. Here and there
a line of pink light
betrays the sun we
cannot see. But over
the curved loch a
skein of blue opens
its torn wings on heaven,
a window to what is
always there.

We must
hold to that hidden
lightness when the dark
closes on the mind
like the grip of winter
on the tired embers
of our chilly faith.

©C.M.M. 01/07


The Music-Maker said...

Exams are taking over my life - but I will be back to comment productively!

Christine McIntosh said...

Well, just remember that the half-line should be in the right-centred position!

Anonymous said...

I was thinking about this poem last night. For some reason the line of pink was to me remembered as a line of red. This led me to think of this line of red as a line of Jesus blood like a lifeline through the darkness.
My 7-11 education leads me to think it could do with another verse.

Christine McIntosh said...

You may well be right, Jimmy - but at the moment it isn't there!