The Demon and the Door

Photo by Deepain Jindal on Pexels.com

In the early hours of this morning I had a very brief nightmare in which I was running from an evil spectre that I couldn’t see but could feel. I was sprinting for my life, my heart beating up and out of my throat, down a dark corridor.

Dear Big Cloud

Dear Big Cloud,

I am Raindrop #1293048574442. You won’t remember me, but You dropped me onto Earth about half an hour ago. I don’t expect You to get this message, and I’m sorry to bother You if You’re busy, but I need to ask You something.

D.G.W

Today marks the fifth anniversary of when the greatest man I ever had the privilege to know – my Papa – let his heart beat its last. When it finally sank into my soul that we were actually in his final days, I became overwhelmed with memories, snapshots in my mind of all that I would consider his legacy. For his funeral, I wrote and recited the following poem. It isn’t the best for rhythm and metre and all the technical whatnot, and I’m pretty sure ‘philosophic’ hasn’t ever been a word, but it carries the most meaning for me. The words came from a teenager’s raw mourning.

Thought I’d post this today as a little half-decade anniversary tribute.

Illuminate

Stone cold, dark grey rock sits

in the ceiling, the floor, the walls and my fingers.

No person enters herein,

No-one comes with a solution to my shackles,

except

Peace, Growth and Boldness

I grew up amongst a very churchy environment. One of my favourite books as a toddler was my treasured Lions First Bible, in which the text was enormous and the pages danced with large pencil-drawn cartoons of men in beards and women with halos. I then went to Sunday School, Kids’ Church, and Youth Group until finally I was mature enough for the big peoples’ church services. My favourite part of all of these groups, as long as I can remember, was not the colouring in or the games or the message for the day, and it certainly wasn’t the elderly ladies who reminded me how tall I’d become during the week.

As We Are

I went to a new church today. It was a very balmy Queensland morning, the perspiration was eagerly waiting to break forth from atop my nose, the building was on the small side, the people were all unknown to me, and it was generally stuffy… But it soon became the most refreshing church service I have attended in a very, very long time.

Hello, Familiar Little Tear…

Hello, familiar little tear,

I thought that you might reappear,

A Much Belated Easter Metaphor

Last month, I was enjoying a coffee and a Brontё novel in the garden when all of a sudden I spied in my peripheral vision a stumpy little caterpillar hurrying across my shoe. He looked upset and confused.

A Clarification: What I Don’t Like About Church

I think some people have slightly misinterpreted a piece I wrote two months ago which I cunningly titled, ‘What I Don’t Like About Church’.

A Poem about Strength

If I can make the dead to live,

and turn pure water into wine,

and to the earth my own Son give,

so you would know that you are Mine…