Her life in turmoil, sad in a poor home, no money to spend, two halfpennies left. ———– The lawyers look on with glee, another widow, vulnerable and poor, steal her home, send her to in-laws oppress her till she numbly goes. —— They set the bar high, in the temple treasury, 2 coins is a… Continue reading The Widow’s Mite/Oppression Destroys
Tag: loss
Grief a Broken Heart.
The darkness grew in my mind, as I watched the fragile light recede, in my distress I saw it swallowing, me whole. —– The grief I felt washed through, as I remembered the good things, and there, in a moment, overwhelmed I wept. —– You were there and yet I could not reach you.… Continue reading Grief a Broken Heart.
The Trenches
Mud like superglue, makes battle grim, mountains of slimed clothes, never clean, boots feel like leaden weights and the humble sandwich tastes like dirt. — The sweet face of a friend sinks down, leaving the grief to to fight and show that this hell is more than enough, and bitterness bloats the corpse. —- Precious… Continue reading The Trenches
Grace in the Waiting
Dissolving margins take me deeper into the desolation of the soul, with each moment long, I find my life weariness increasing the hole in my thinking. ——– Tears thicken in my eyes where the sight is strained by searching, my heart is like a rock as if the spirit’s flown leaving me lurching on its… Continue reading Grace in the Waiting
Children matter more than guns.
The once kissed face unrecognisably their chlld, tiny hands, they touched, covered in drying blood, their little lungs filled with blood, their future stolen and their once loving hearts, overwhelmed died, sacrificed at the altar of the ‘Right To Bear Arms.’ —- Mothers broken by the news weep inconsolably, fathers fury chokes the tears back… Continue reading Children matter more than guns.
The Waiting
Holy Saturday Hushed was the garden where he lay, birds silently watched and soft wings of many hued butterflies flit to and fro alight on the stone as if they could prise it open and find their Lord within. —– In Bethany tears flowed, work stopped, food untouched, and shocked bodies slumped,, and talking tried… Continue reading The Waiting
The Flames of Death
It was beautiful, the newly shooting buds of ancient trees, those toppled by the terrible storms defiantly greening, At our feet the carpet of pungent garlic holding its buds as precious gifts to a foraging folk and here and there stars of anemones shining in the dim lit ancient path. == We trod on round… Continue reading The Flames of Death
Then, Now and Tomorrow
I sat beneath the boughs of a tree, once, and watched the crowds go by. Dressed warmly against the cold, bright coloured scarves, boots and shoes, and even sand- als displayed beneath shorts of a wry hard man, displaying his hairy legs and muscles against the hoar, raw frosts on the brown, bare, sleeping,… Continue reading Then, Now and Tomorrow