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Moseley Chimes
March 2008
I saw the sunset’s final rays and heard the peewee call,
the day that Aidan sunrise saw as skylarks sonnets sang:
That exultation, clarion call, into the darkening land
echoes now but time recedes. Time recedes but tides recede
and rise again, subtly sculpting sifting sands
into new causeways. The sunset illuminates and shades.
The Vikings raided here. Folk fled with saintly bones
into the darkening land. Sheltered in caves, then canopied
with gothic arch and glass: stained, strange, splitting of the light
into vary-coloured rays and hues: set in stone: illuminating
studied symbols. But I am here now, as sunlight turns to starlight,
mysterious night, half filled with angels’ songs.
Pilgrims also come, though your gospels are in London
caged in glass, studied by scholars, reproduced a hundredfold.
Better here the stones, lines of land, inspiration still as cold wind blows:
shaping the flow, illuminating night of song and shadow.
One only night, the now. Where does that wind blow?
Cold in my bones, ossaries of hope, in silent song and waterfall.
The land that Aidan understood speaks still: the skylark calls.
Are we true to ourselves?
Honest and without guile
Can we delve to find our innermost self
Banishing pretence
stamping out crippling pride
Loosening the shackles of guilt and self doubt
Wringing out our hearts,
But instead filling the gaps with hope
Prayerfully and letting ourselves heal
Showing inner feelings
Crying out our faith and love
For mankind and God
Who is there all around us
Waiting in the wings of our lives
For our upturned faces
For that one step forward
His arms ever open
Shadowing the cross
The one true salvation
And giver of new life
Here and into eternity.