Wendy Tebay wrote:
>However, I'd first like to get a feel of how many of you would like to
>participate by sending in a couple examples of your work, should we get
this
>going.
Count me in.
The following all have PD as their subject:
Dennis.
I Didn't Come Here for This
I didn't come here for this,
this endless journey on broken roads.
My route was planned over perfect highways
with scenic stopovers.
I knew where I was going.
No I didn't come here for this.
I didn't come here for this,
this compulsive solo to syncopated tunes.
The choreography was meant to show grace,
and effortless power.
I knew the steps by heart.
No I didn't come here for this.
I didn't come here for this,
this relentless carrying of unwanted burdens.
I had thought myself an eagle, wind born and turning
on columns of air.
Untouched by gravity.
No I didn't come here for this.
I didn't come here for this,
this finding of courage when I thought I was empty.
I had thought that the brave lived with fanfares of trumpets,
with medals and honours.
How much I have learned.
But I didn't come here for this.
I didn't come here for this,
this touching of part of the infinite.
Moving at speed leaves little time for reflection,
and now I am slow.
I gain despite myself.
I should have come here for this.
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Cage Doors
To never cry is to have no feelings;
to never fear is to have no thoughts;
to never be angry is unimaginable,
and to always be brave demands to high a cost.
...
Sometimes we have to let go,
no matter who gets hurt;
because we cannot carry the world.
...
Some times we need to lie down
no matter what is compelling us;
because we cannot carry ourselves.
...
We are caught by our bodies;
and caged by our minds!
...
There will be an end to tears
and anger will become defiance,
once again we will master our fear.
...
The cage door swings until another day.
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A Small Salvation
No-one offered me a choice that day in Gethsemani,
no-one said " you can say no". No-one offered,
to take the cup away. No-one said " take what suits you,
would you prefer to shake or be slow? Can we throw in
a touch of rigidity or maybe a lot". No-one asked me.
No-one asked.
Which is not to say that I had no choices. I could
pretend that there was no cup, that Judas was a
friend, that Caiaphas' men where a welcoming
committee and Pilote a generous host. I had that
much choice, at least until the whips and thorns.
But not after.
Or I could drain the cup with passion, then slowly
travel the Via Dolorosa stooping to the load, shaking
and shuffling, knowing the end and the journey for
what they are. Golgotha is not chosen, it chooses you
and leaves you few choices. I had not applied, and no-one
had asked me.
And yet I have choices. I can choose to walk, not be
dragged, down the road; to fill my home with my love
not my pain; my words with my hope not despair. I can
share courage not fear; and reaching for the best that is in
me I can touch the pain of Calvary, and bring to pass a
small, personal salvation.
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Waiting
Waiting.
Movement is memory;
my thoughts, a sluggish Congo,
out of a heart of darkness.
Still waiting,
here at the core of the galaxy,
where space/time changes meaning
and not even thought escapes the event horizon.
Still waiting.
So still that the torturer's horse
uses me for a scratching post.
A small bird moves on the edge of vision;
tiny, exquisite, busy with doing.
I am still, waiting,
enduring the horse,
exploring the river,
ignoring the grasp of gravity,
and far beyond the comprehension of
yellow winged honeyeaters.
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After the Storm
Later, reading the headlines and counting the cost,
we moved as strangers in a land made strange by familiar
signposts now pointing to oblivion and roads leading to
ruined places once called home.
There we found, strewn across the boundaries of
our lives, fallen monuments to past ambitions amid
the debris of lost hopes. It came as no surprise
that many cried.
There was a need to retrieve and a need to repair;
a need to clear and a need to build again; but first
there was a need to touch each thing - before
the sorting into piles.
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Dennis Greene 48/onset 32 /dx 37
"It is better to be a crystal and be broken,
Than to be a perfect tile upon the housetop."
[log in to unmask]
http://members.networx.net.au/~dennisg/
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