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These poems are the fruit of almost 30 years of occasional writing. They were written as private reflections, or for friends and family. I hadn't intended them for public consumption, but people have told me now and then that they thought I should share them, so I have. I shall add new poems if and when I write them, though a lot of my words tend to go into sermons these days!
If you find something you like and find helpful, you are welcome to use it and share it, but please make sure my name stays attached to it.
The poems are posted in no particular order, but the labels - click on links below - should help you find poems on various themes.
There are also separate pages on this blog containing links to music composed by my husband, Philip, and to Christmas stories which I have told here at Seal in place of sermons on Christmas Day.

Monday 6 June 2016

One Carol Service too many. (A reflection on getting involved)


The church is full of angels.
Tinsel slivers moult onto the tiles,
straying into every corner.
Glittering,
they will be discovered
long after the heavenly host have disappeared
 - wings furled beneath their coats.

Mary and Joseph (yet again) have made the long
journey up the aisle to worship at the crib
I see them hovering, undecided, on the chancel steps. 
Stranded in confusion,
looking for Grandma in the crowd,
they have forgotten why they came.

Meanwhile the unaccustomed congregation sings,
- almost inaudibly  - ­the praises of the Christ child.
Huddled,
- as if fearful that the words they never meant to utter
might be taken down and used in evidence against them -
­fighting shy,
they stand
ready to hurry these holy storytellers out into the night.

And anger surges
unexpectedly ,
as I recoil from their reluctant presence.

Shocked by myself,
I find I am as frightened of their cold indifference
as they are of the threat of this dream-shattering tale.

And yet,
despite our crucifying fears,
the God who melded his own being
nerve by nerve with humankind
who shot his glory through our births and deaths and resurrections
still,
amidst the tinsel,
comes to us with painful mercy.


Christmas 93.



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