Mary Magdalene … Noli me tangere …

I am blind to everything but the blurred threads

of your garment ..

I kneel;

I bow my head;

I incline my soul.

I feel your sorrow;

I weep;

I shudder;

Mea culpa; mea culpa;

mea maxima culpa.

I am deaf to everything but your eternal pulse.

I understand nothing of this world

but the spirit of love

You breathe …

You wait, Lord,

beyond the tomb,

beyond the pain,

beyond the fear,

to hear the footsteps of the fallen

follow, penitent, in yours …

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21st Century

I read words which dripped blood

from the abattoirs of history;

torture,

the applied psychology of fear;

a contemporary rendition.

I sensed the merciless power of power:

perdition –

Inchoate thoughts shamble and lurch

haphazardly

I understood the sophistry

of justified pain

in the discarded ethics of the inhumane.

In the wailings of a broken mind

I heard the seared soul of humankind –

Formless strings of words

ramble in search of meaning

Like a spreading stain

coercion bleeds into the statutes

of the state:

no truth is true declared the sane

for thus it was decreed

that untruth is inviolate.

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The miracle

Snowdrops and Celtic cross

Thy love, my God, the eternal spring,

the source of hope –

the inexhaustible well.

The  purple crocus blooms imperial;

from the cold winter earth

it bursts, my God, resplendent

into Thy light.

To witness the birth

of an unfolding flower,

is drama, is mystery, is Thy power transcendent.

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Presence …

 

Clerestory

Clerestory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At Tintern,

within the gaunt tracery of stone,

the flames of Faith still burn –

winged fire of praise and prayer

permeates.

The monks intone.

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The Christmas Present …

A holy child

is sleeping;

born beneath

an eastern star;

the promised one, the saviour,

The Messiah.

No silken canopies

enfold this royal cradle;

no rich accoutrements

adorn His birthplace –

in this lowly stable

where He lies –

the King of Kings –

in His mother’s arms.

She is weeping ..

Does she visualise

a crown of thorns

above His infant face

for our redemption –

and His gift of love

and grace;

her son’s sacrifice?

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November song …

I lie awake;
white moonlight floods the night.
From the ash tree
a tawny owl calls repetitively.
His unmistakeable notes haunt the cold air.
I await an answering response;
her softer song,
call and reply –
that autumnal antiphon.

HAZY MOON

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In the formal garden …

Holywell

In the formal garden
a curvilinear fountain
controls the water flow;
confined by the sharp geometry of a pool
rippling liquid stills.
Languid fish glow golden beneath
their unruffled sky
swimming in silence among reflected clouds ..
Beyond the grey stone walls
ewes lie resting in the sun, ruminative;
their lambs nibbling the novelty of grass
where the land dips down to the unconfined sea
and rough waves invade the sea-caves .

Claire and Tony's June 5 2014 186

© [Marya] and [atomsofstars], [2014]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Marya] and [atomsofstars] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Some kind of poetic expression …

Turbulent sky

Thoughts breathing ..

words struggle for air ..

some kind of poetic expression

is born, mute, in my mind.

I scuff through leaves

like a heedless child

while turbulent clouds

harass the blue of the sky –

then I see in the drama above me

some kind of poetic expression ..

in the variable pulse of emotion;

does he or does he not love me?

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In the temple of the woods …

Snowdrops and Celtic cross

In the temple of the woods
snowdrops,
with meek submission,
bow their heads
in pure white hoods
in homage to their lord,
the sun ..
In slow procession,
these acolytes
with green-tipped hems;
vestal virgins of the Spring,
hold aloft on strong, slim stems,
the hope that dark Winter’s rule
is ending … .

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Into the heart of Spring …

Tregothnan 003

Into the heart of Spring I gaze;
into the mysterious centre ..
this tender-seeming plant,
defying storms and rain;
offers to the fitful sun
its pale petals
of perfection ..
another Winter; another Spring;
the lengthening of the days;
the cycle of the seasons;
the revolving Earth;
the sweet mystery of the primrose;
renewal and rebirth … .

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