In this place I half expect to glimpse
out of the corner of my eye
some prehistoric man,
barefoot and wary.
Wrapped in skins and rags he darts
into a thicket as I turn.
Or on a winter's morning I might come across
a silent rower
sliding in his dugout boat through flooded meadows.
In this place the landscape crouches;
holds me in its secrets like a gin trap
snapping shut where unsuspecting walkers tread;
faintly murmurs love and life and death and sad regret and conflict.
In this place we live a whisper from the edge of worlds;
a hair's-breadth from the boundaries of our comprehensions.
In this place the sense of age
all our busyness
and watches us rush
across the thin
of the present.
And it seems as if Time
waits here hungry
to reduce us all
to sliding shadows in the mist.
in this place
which spawned so many legends
can I trust the old tale's truth?
And did those feet in ancient times
(and do they still)
walk here, imprinting all our insignificant concerns with love?
And does the maker of all things
still weave our fragile "now!
into his patterned plan?
Or are we dust?
5th Sept 91
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.