Splitting the Darkness is a collection of poems written primarily while the author was living in Boston for eighteen months. An appropriate subtitle might be "Prayer by another name" as the theme of prayer runs throughout the book, which is unashamedly written from a Christian perspective. The poems reflect the people and places that have inspired or challenged the author but also reflect the continuous awareness of things spiritual and of the relationships that have been the poet's foundation. Other subthemes might be described as awareness and appreciation, which are, of course, "prayers by another name"
Splitting the Darkness
By Brian CallanTrafford Publishing
Copyright © 2013 Brian Callan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4907-1850-7Contents
1. Candle Light, 1,
2. White Blanket, 2,
3. Prayer Room, 3,
4. Your Chair, 4,
5. Nicola, 5,
6. Two Roads, 6,
7. Yesterday's Fall, 8,
8. Aware, 9,
9. Art Songs, 10,
10. Worthy, 11,
11. Blackfoot Tribe, 12,
12. Smile of Poverty, 14,
13. Auschwitz, 15,
14. Quiet Place, 16,
15. Always There, 17,
16. The Text, 18,
17. Hand in Hand, 19,
18. Prayer Tree, 20,
19. Stone Walls, 22,
20. The Prize, 23,
21. Terminus, 24,
22. Slipped Away, 25,
23. Pebble, 26,
24. Misplaced Mission, 27,
25. No Answers, 28,
26. Choice, 30,
27. Mendenhall Glacier, 31,
28. Disappointment, 32,
29. White Stone, 33,
30. Cageless, 34,
31. On a Plane, 36,
32. Circular Signposts, 37,
33. Milestones, 38,
34. Stolen Moments, 39,
35. Walled Garden, 40,
36. Offering, 42,
37. Another World, 43,
38. Dance, 44,
39. Pennyblack Prayers, 45,
40. Window, 46,
41. Seeing the Trees, 48,
42. Stopping, 49,
43. Words, 50,
44. Forgiveness, 51,
45. Walking, 52,
CHAPTER 1
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.
Excerpted from Splitting the Darkness by Brian Callan. Copyright © 2013 Brian Callan. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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