Candle Light

    The candles are all different
    But the light is the same
    Different shapes, sizes, colours
    Some burn still while others dance
    Some have fragrance, others none
    But the light is the same
    Splitting the darkness
    Like those of us who gather to pray,
    Different in so many ways
    Ages, colours, countries
    But the light is the same
    Splitting the darkness
    Just by being here.


    White Blanket

    The sky is falling gently down
    Slowly over a sleeping town
    Painting it Winter white
    In a mirror full of moonlight,
    Delicate designs dropping
    In a descending dance,
    Drifting towards the day
    Purifying the present
    With white powder prayer,
    An array of tiny white dots
    Covering a gray world,
    Like a people in prayer
    Because You are there.


    Prayer Room

    Ardfallen

    I felt like a fountain
    Overflowing with thankfulness,
    Appreciation,
    Just to be there.
    Thoughts bubbling over
    Catching the written prayers of others,
    Prayer tree, prayer board, prayer pictures,
    Making them my own,
    Falling into a deeper pool
    Than I ever knew was there
    Immersed in unspoken care,
    A holy place in a holy week
    Walking without shoes
    On the floorboards of reflected love,
    Of a people bowed in prayer
    Gathered in care
    Just glad to be there.


    Your Chair

    Nicola—December 1994

    Jan did not want to move your chair.
    To rearrange the furniture
    Would be to rearrange your life,
    You filled her day
    Taking an unequal share
    That is no longer there.
    Jan loved to feed you
    To choose what you would wear
    And for so very long
    You were her softest song
    The music of her life,
    The centre of her day,
    The edge of her night,
    Jan did not want to move your chair,
    To move might interrupt the prayer.


    Nicola

    December 2012

    The Autumn trees are bare
    Having cried their leafy tear
    For another year,
    Under a sky filled with the sea.
    The colour has not yet broken into Winter
    And you are gone away again
    Without seeing your first Spring.
    Your beautiful eyes
    Did not focus very well
    Except to focus goodness
    From those prepared to love
    And those who took the time to understand
    You were more than just alive
    You were the deep well
    That echoed the reality of unconditional love
    From somewhere we could not see
    Before you were set free.


    Two Roads

    You are never far from my prayers
    Early morning thoughts
    Late night thoughts
    The dream and the reality
    Halfway to nowhere
    But closer than before
    With you yet without you
    Separated by miles
    Joined by incredible threads
    Strong as steel, soft as silk,
    Reaching in and reaching out
    Following the road ahead of us
    Stretching towards an end
    That we cannot yet see
    But know it is there,
    Always with the question
    Of what might have been
    And what will be yet.


    Yesterday's Fall

    The leaves walked across our path
    Gently dancing, flowing into each other
    Carried on the wind, rooted to the road
    Cartwheeling tip to toe, bowed beautifully low
    Applauding a final curtain,
    Last year's leftovers
    Crackling brown and brown
    Swept up and down
    Like a ballerina clown
    Gracefully colliding in mid-air
    Falling with flair,
    Now the new Spring of Autumn
    Where the old leaves sing
    Yesterday's song.


    Aware

    I am here
    Waiting on awareness
    To settle gently on my being
    I imagine the sound
    Of a still candle
    In the gentle flicker of tickless time
    Sensing the ladybird
    That I can just see
    Who makes no sound
    But sings creation's song,
    Finding something beautiful
    That needs no words,
    Like the clear still water
    The reflected evening light
    The still moonlit night,
    On the journey to this moment
    To be aware of the prayer
    That is the now.


    Art Songs

    I like Monet's Haystacks
    I love Renoir's Blue Lady
    Each picture sings her own song
    This is my type of art
    It immediately makes me a part
    Appreciation overwhelms my heart
    And I keep coming back
    To drink the music of colour
    That paints my soul with prayer.
    Picasso may be nearly perfect
    But I am left untouched
    Hours of considered contemplation
    Without insight or adequate appreciation,
    I know this is my loss, I know this,
    But I know also what I like
    Because I appreciate the song
    Before I look for the singer
    Filling my soul with the sound of praise.


    Worthy

    The ball connected with the bat
    The ball soared higher, longer
    More beautifully than before
    The crowd creates the roar
    A very worthy score,
    She skated with her spirit
    Gliding, twisting, floating
    Angelically lifting and lowering
    An audience standing in ovation
    The dance worthy of appreciation,
    Renoir's Blue Lady
    At home in a Cardiff gallery
    Majestic, simple, soothing
    Evoking timeless admiration
    And a feeling of perfection.

    All artists in their own right
    Loved because they are worthy
    While the rest of us are simply worthy
    Because we are loved.


    Blackfoot Tribe

    British Columbia

    They worship a creator
    Who does not have Your name
    But must be You,
    Connecting in awe and gentle gratitude
    For all You have given,
    Creating ceremonies of worship outside themselves,
    Taking the moon and the sun,
    Wolves of the Milky Way,
    So they have something to return the thanks
    For all things given and received,
    Listening to the voice of spirits
    Maybe even Your voice by another name
    Their Great Spirit of the night sky,
    Blessing given and accepted in gratitude,
    From the One who has created them,
    But You are the Creator.


    Smile of Poverty

    Jaipur, India

    The poverty is almost everywhere
    On every street corner
    Filling so many faces,
    Piles of rotting roadside rubbish
    Picked clean by people,
    People with names
    People with nothing but their smiles.
    Living in tentative tents
    That hold back the monsoon,
    Set in the shadow of the Taj Mahal
    Beautiful in it's reflected symmetry
    Truly magnificent in it's art
    This white marble holiness
    This pinnacle of a people's hope
    In the golden triangle of the poor,
    Floating on a million hungry tea cups
    That each have their own smile.


    Auschwitz

    Krackow, Poland

    This is a place we must remember
    And wonder how it could be
    And how it could be allowed,
    It is quiet, buried in silent snow,
    We slowly pass piles of spectacles
    Mounds of human hair, mountains of shoes
    That once belonged to someone
    Before they were taken away.
    How could cotton striped pyjamas
    Hold out this bone touching cold,
    Forty seconds on the lavatory
    Is the story of inhumane control
    Of both life and death in this unholy holocaust,
    Working for freedom to another world.
    It is hard to imagine the millions
    Behind the miles of barbed wire
    Who had to take the long walk
    But the shoe mountain helped,
    They all belonged to someone.


    Quiet Place

    for Jan

    This is a peaceful place
    Silent world of insulating white
    Absorbing all the white noise
    Below a shining sun, warm, bright, silent
    A pond of quietness, a slice of time slowed down,
    So I can think of you,
    And keep it alive until you arrive,
    To smile together at the simplicity of it all,
    Watching the white laden trees
    Silhouettes of silent stillness
    That we will just step into,
    Waiting for the promised colours
    To creep out of the white
    Creating the path to where we will go
    When the time comes.


    Always There

    Everywhere I go
    You are there
    Only a thought away,
    The last thought each evening
    As I drift to sleep
    In your arms,
    Real or imaginary,
    Steering the mists
    Of our reality,
    Wanting you always,
    Living the love
    That will take us
    To the next tomorrow
    And beyond.


    The Text

    I got your text, your warming words of expectation
    Beautiful in their thoughtfulness
    Weighted words with a gentle scent of anticipation
    Latent eyes of eagerness that say you're there, you care
    Just a thought away and more, much more.
    I drink the words you so willingly send
    Wishing me welcome to another day
    That you have already begun,
    Lingering on the edge of everything, awakening realization
    Gratitude that you took time to text,
    Wanting the real words of remembered conversations
    But feeling an imagined touch
    Showers of deep affection that make my day
    And warm my night.