Month: December 2019

This emptiness,
this star-less night,
this dry well –
they sit at the gate
and watch all the travellers
passing through.

To be held in arms everlasting
Oh what praises shall be ours to sing
To rest in the long light of the moon
These the gifts to our own hearts we bring.

In the quiet of the
conversation,
weariness lifted
from her shoulders
and she heard the laughter
of the small creek,
the stirring of the leaves
in the forest,
the song of the angels
among the stars,
and in that small moment,
the hush of peace.

Friendship
is a strong house,
patiently built,
one stone upon
another,
placed there
one at a time.

Friendship,
forged in
the currency
of time,
has no price
by which it can
be bought or sold.

More often than not lately
the weariness of lack
lays us down beneath
a heavy load,
casts us on a long
and dry road,
tries to stifle the joy
we have known.

The lights,
led and neon
side by side,
did little to
illuminate
the path of peace
or to give hope
to hollow hearts.

It was a long coast
stretching beside
the Tasman sea;
there the thud
of the waves
hitting the shore
kept time to
the jug band’s
tea-chest bass
and guitar.

He said he could not take that weight
though his shoulder could help bear the load
and his arms could hold her in the deepest
hug and fill the space that emptied out her heart.

She is looking for the words
with which to write her grief
and asks, how do you speak of hope
when your throat is dry
and your voice is choked
and the tears are falling
from your eyes?