Month: February 2020

And for every grace I have ever known
And for every gift I have received
And for every grave I have found empty
And for every cross I have carried
I offer my own broken hallelujah

And for every tree I have bowed before
And for every ocean I have longed for
And for every road I have wandered down
And for every sun I have welcomed
I offer my two coins of redemption

Enough, enough
the call comes
out of the place
hardly ever accessed,
the deepest place,
private,
where truth
hardly ever speaks.

His eyes draw blood
and ache to close,
to rest and cease from the
strained focus of tracing
blurred words across the page.

All my mistakes
I have undone;
I cannot undo
them anymore

Within the turmoil of private lives,
in the negotiating around each
damaged heart, we find ourselves drawn
ever closer to understanding
and compassion.

We are worn out
by the packing and stacking
and the lifting and loading
and driving; and by the unloading,
and re-lifting and re-stacking
and then the unpacking.

And for every moon I have sat beneath
And for every star I have followed
And for every heart I have travelled with
And for every river I have crossed
I offer my blood-washed bread and wine.

Clear as glass,
the waters of the
Mahurangi harbour
are covered in a
pastel orange sky;
the shadow of
the lone swimmer
is seen beneath
the surface.

Watch over me
yellow moon,
watch over
my crumpled body
wrapped between the
the blankets of
tussock and bracken.