New Year’s Eve, a time to cast Reflective eye on year that’s past Though it has been hard in part Yet it takes no special art To see jewels in the dark Lowly lamps that left their mark Chief, a pause in headlong rush A chance to seek, in trauma’s hush May we to ourselves be kind And now Spirit-treasure find.
In one sense strange to face New Year In depth of winter, chill and drear Yet what gems may yet appear In this cold moment’s dark nadir Lean not hard on frail will power Seek now deeper in this hour As a troubled year now pales Spirit-wind, come fill my sails.
Marvel, mystery, Christmas Eve Bustling mother, dad on leave Lamplight flicker, thickening gloom Magic in a heart finds room Wondering eyes on chimney flue Mince pie, brandy, carrot too Trusting, in the deep of night Morning will bring gifts so bright…
Bustle, rustle, gifts unwrapped Surprise, delight when fitting, apt Turkey trimmings, family feast Each one welcome, great to least Queen, then stroll, late afternoon Sofa, sun has sunk so soon Quick it passes, yet foretells A greater Feast, celestial bells.
Diwali, festival of lights, warm traditions, customs bright Rangoli, pretty coloured rice, family joy and pungent spice See the lamplight glowing there, firework whistle, crisp night air, Tasty food in ‘thali’ dish, neighbour’s greeting, loving wish Yet, can any lamp or spark, chase away an inner dark? Secret things I wish to hide, what on them can turn the tide? Is there lasting light to shine, in this troubled heart of mine? I heard a rumour, precious pearl, one known as ‘Light of the World’ Now I seek this inner light, and long to see, with purer sight.
November gloom, autumnal air Marks festivity bright and rare Ambient scenes, exquisite sights Diwali, festival of lights.
Flickering candle, lamplight glow Cosy homely warm tableau Tasty food in ‘thali’ dish Family greeting, loving wish.
What could be more apt and right Than such a reverie of light? Still, is there yet richer art A balm to soothe a troubled heart?
Every lamp and firework spark Soon will be snuffed out, go dark Show me light that will not cease To this frayed cracked heart bring peace.
Blind, I seek some inner light Fumbling, crave a greater sight Jesus, teacher, ‘Light of the world’ Let light be in me unfurled.
In annual deep autumnal gloom, of russet red November, Many of us stop a while, to pause, reflect, remember, Huddled groups, dark overcoats with splash of poppy red, Reassuring ritual, of words said and unsaid.
This year coronavirus lends the day a different hue, Musings on mortality touched with other sadness too, So if you can, go the extra mile to reach out and remember Those who may be struggling and fragile this November.
While crimson poppies are the norm, some wear a poppy white, A broader deep perspective to keep within our sight, Puzzled people ask me what a white poppy is for: To honour every person killed or traumatised by war.
We mark the memory of the fallen, costly sacrifice Of those who bravely gave their lives, but also mark the price, The causes and the roots of conflict, issues broad and deep, And actively pursue the peace, seek to preserve and keep.
In doing so, we emulate the fragile precious art Of weaving harmony that lasts, a pearl of God’s own heart, Like him, let all our yearning for such deep ‘shalom’ not cease, Until, as oceans cover earth, our world is filled with peace.
It’s that time of year again, you know, Halloween When kids like to dress up as goblins and ghouls Like it – or not, there’s a reason we’re keen On the spooky – it’s not just for numpties or fools.
It’s thoroughly human to love a ghost story Not bonkers to want to dress up as a witch I get it that you like what’s scary or gory That Halloween scratches where you want to itch.
Let’s face it, some things are both strange and mysterious Deeper than we had imagined or thought There’s more than our five senses tell us, I’m serious If you’ve not considered it, believe me, you ought.
But here’s just a small thing you might like to ponder I ask myself sometimes if we’ve got this right We rave about the dark side, but tell me, I wonder Is there not something powerful too – about the light?
What can seem just a little surprising and weird Is our tendency to see God as boring and tame We tend to think ‘stuffy old bloke with a beard’ But what if the reality makes that thought look lame?
What if God’s actually mysterious, exciting That’d sure change the picture, to put it quite mild To think God is active, and beckoning, inviting… Us into relationship – that’s really quite wild.
Good bad and ugly, we’re a complicated mixture It’s not surprising the dark side we want to embrace But if God’s all-encompassing love is a fixture In our messiness that’s pretty good news – it’s called grace.