When I first saw you
swaddled in wishes
within a world, dream-laden,
tightly packed with prayers.
Cast up like driftwood on your mother's lap
washed by her tears
her melting edge of grief fell slowly at your baptism.
Beached precariously on the world's shore
by arms and legs we held you
as if our hands could bind you to the earth,
and in your naming we forbade some random wave to sweep you back
and claim you never were.
And all we dared to ask was this:
that you should live
tomorrow and tomorrow.
For a child for whom I stood in as godmother at short notice. The baptism took place in the Special Care Baby Unit the day after her birth, just before she underwent a serious operation. I am glad to say she survived and is now grown up.
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.