I went running and I saw some bluebells and for the remainder of the run I just tried to hold on to these poems that were emerging within me. Poetry is a mystery to me, it seems that poems are like beautiful memories that you discover are emerging within you but they also happen to you with the immediacy of an electric jolt within your fibres as your soul distils its secrets to you… this is the stream of poems that came to me today;
Permeate my being
Silent in the storm.
Then as I continued running it occurred to me as the bluebells continued to drown the surrounding fringes of the forest that their silence reminded me of the Easter mystery;
O silence of Jesus before Pilate
Learnt from Joseph’s school and Mary’s gaze;
You are more ancient still
Than the birth of every galaxy.
Then as my run finished I remembered the ecstatic joy known to those who know Christ;
Mantled by creation,
Your fiery throne is ablaze,
As all creation converges
Upon your resurrected glory;
Time is dancing to the rhythm
Of your eternal tide
Breaking forth upon the sand of man’s existence.