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.

Friday, 10 March 2017

The last gift

God, squatting on his hunkers,
wipes the clay from his broad fingers,
contemplates his morning's work,
and hums a faintly indecisive, wondering tune.

"Arms, legs,
two eyes (still closed),
ten fingers, toes,
- it looks alright -
this creature made of earth,
this mud-pie thing."

God sits and thinks a while
"- what else? -"
then takes a sucking breath
and kisses it to life.

"I give you love," he breathes,
"enough and more to spare.
I give you struggle,
- not too much - to make you grow.
I give you all of me to play in
and sufficient nerve to jump into the dark,
and curiosity and little glimpses of the infinite
- divine temptations! -
and some questions without answers.
Then here's joy and peace and gentleness,
and power to create
to bind, to heal and to destroy.
I give you wisdom, and the courage to be foolish,
trust and patience, faith and hope. 
I give you birthing, changing, dying, 
and the sense to know your time."

And filled with God-breathed gifts,
the creature stirs, mud glowing into flesh,
and stretching, wakes.
And God looks on his work
and smiles
and cries a tear
and sucks another breath.

"And last I give..."
he sighs, and pauses - for the last gift is the hardest,
"last I give you freedom."
And God turns and walks away.

Feb 23rd 91

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