Tag: poem

Worth

Sometimes I wish

That the whole economic world

Would

Somehow shut its doors.

Wind down

And leave us
All in

Peace.

Nothing much going on…

Just the

Quiet

Thrum

Of busyness

From people.

Like

Bees

returning to their

Natural rhythm.

No longer

Tethered to

This or that

We just become

Defined

By who we are

In relation to

Who others

are.

Not by what we

Do

Or how many

Things

I own

Or by how

Much credit

Appears on a screen

In some

Bank.

I am

Defined

By who I am

Not by how much

I have in

My pocket.

Is there another way

Separate from

economic

Worth

For me

To

Trace a line

Upon

This

Earth?

And then leave

Like some

comic book fly

As I

Take off

Into some

New

Universe

Where

Who I am

Is felt,

Is known

For my true

Worth.

Exhausted

Exhausted

From the

Constant

Pull.

Reflecting

On

These months

We’ve

All

Shared

In shutdown.

Like a fighter –

Punch

Drunk –

I struggle

To come

To my

Senses and

See

And

feel

How Beaten

We’ve been

By the

Storm

That’s hit us.

Scared and

Jelly-like

I’m terrified by the noise

Of

This passing

Juggernaut.

What has it done

to us?

What can it do?

Can I rise

Up

Again, to stand

And

Face down

This

demonic

Challenge

to all we

Held dear?

Have I understood

the

Challenge

it has

Brought to all

that can

Be

shaken?

Have I learned

The bittersweet lessons

This trial

Has come to

Share?

Will we rise
Together,

Refined?

Something

There’s something new

Rising,

Newness of

The Earth

Rising.

Something

New

Rising.

People

Awakening

To

The prescient call.

.

It’s a growing

Roar,

Life-giving,

Rising

From

An unknown place

Deep

Within this

Sleeping

Troubled

Land.

Rising

Like

Echoes

From

Places

As yet

unseen.

Echoing

Through

The soil.

Giving life

As

Sound

Tunnels

Through every

Dead

Clump.

New thing

For Sophie

There is a new thing

rising

It is

the sound of a generation

Emerging from under

Ground.

Fed and

Healthful,

Nourished on

Natural

Newness,

Basking in the beauty

of

Hidden

Wholeness:

Found

Not manufactured.

Foraged

Not farmed.

Given

Not

grafted

For.

Gifts of

Goodness

Growing in your

Ever youthful souls

Grasping

For

Ever-growing

Expressions

of

Heaven

Here on

dismal

darkened

Earth.

Your shoots

Will

Grow true.

Your seeds

Won’t perish

You are

Planted

From another place.

Another Garden

Gave you life.

And now

You carry

Heaven’s triple-helix

And plant,

With words,

All you’ve got

to

Give.

The coming

Of your words

Is like

The breaking of Eden’s

first

Light.

Straining through the clouds

Of my consciousness.

Bringing with them

Awakening sense of

Your goodness.

Knowing that you

Are with us

Deeply spreads

A sense of steadiness

Through our

Souls.

Earth’s dawn

With all

It’s

Habitual fears

Is extinguished

And a

New

Light

Spreads

Through my

new

Day.

Poem

There is pain

In these dreams

And rejoicing.

And I don’t

Know

How they got there – in my head and

Heart?

How the plain terror of them

That once was firmly in residence – but is no more –

Has disappeared?

Where has it gone?

And why?

I don’t deserve it.

And I did nothing – as far

As I know –

To make it happen

And this makes it even more precious

And

True.

Newness

Something in me tries and vies to become something ‘great’.

Deep down (though really it’s not a very deep thought)

I think I want to be ‘someone’

I want to be at the ‘centre’

Known, liked and wanted.

Someone ‘special’.

I want to get there on my own

To be seen for having ‘done it’

Myself.

But it is

Something of

An illusion.

Not much of ‘me’

will survive

If I want it to be

‘all about me’.

The me that

I want to be

Is selfish

And that will

Crumble away.

Insubstantial:

it will melt

Like

Molten chocolate fondant.