Archives For Poetry

The Empty Side of Grief

February 19, 2016 — Leave a comment

Pic 12

Dynamic is the melody;

a bruised life;

frustrated forgiveness –

the empty side of grief.

The melody reaches for a resolution.

Like dry tears that lock up a grieving heart.

The melody is chained.

It struggles to flow;

to find wings beyond itself;

to be found by the enigmatic glow.

By beat and roar heaved towards foe,

the voice resolves,

its freedom aided by the simplest groan.

Answered by way of the smallest tone.

By grace it slows,


by these commanding whispers,

it soars above its woe.

‘Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.’
– (Paul, Romans, 8:26)


Words and music are my own.

God’s got this…

Just keep breathing.

The palms of his hand may be nail scarred but they are outstretched, strong and reliable.

Those holes are Holy, his hands a living reminder of His commitment to life, to you and to me.

God has got this…

‘Fear not … stay dressed for action and keep your lamps burning, and be like men who are waiting for their master to come home from the wedding feast, so that they may open the door to him at once when he comes and knocks’ (Lk.12:32, 35-36, ESV)

God. has. got. this…

Distant monoliths

May 1, 2013 — 2 Comments


I watched some clouds today.
They seemed to be floating out towards the sea,
all moving at the same speed,
past the backdrop of an Autumn blue,
Australian sky.

The sun doesn’t seem to mind,
as the individual plumes of white,
simultaneously move past it. Defusing the sun’s warmth,…..blocking…’s light.

What surprising destination will their arrival reveal?
Are they gathering beyond human sight,
only to return as a storm tonight?

There is no small tension in their flying formation.
Parallel, parading perfectly as if being conducted into position.
Perhaps pushed along by the breath Giver?

Their clumsy shape, no matter how untidy,
doesn’t seem to hinder this grace filled display of aerial precision flying.
There are no vertical loops, g-forces, flags, fumes or fancy logos…
just white shapes, silently, slowly sailing on by.

What a gift to sit and stare at these distant monoliths.
These mysterious, and quiet airships of vapour, water and light.
-RL, 2013

‘The clouds are the dust of His feet’ (Nahum 1:3, ESV).

A Lenten Litany



We shudder.

In loving gratitude, we are brought to our knees

Because we are reminded of whose we are,

and the who we are becoming.

Crying out, kyrie eleison we join the great cloud of witnesses, contemporary ancients participating with the Spiritual agent.

When we allow God as Father to work through His son in our lives,



Shatters our defence mechanisms and our primal survival tactics

He turns us away from the proverbial kill or be killed…

Allowing us to breathe,

Allowing us to smile,

Allowing us rest,

Allowing us to heal.

The Spirit.

He who intervenes,

He the chosen incarnated one removes us from perceived indelible stains,

the kind that chain us, bind us and define our identity,


He frees us to be free for Him.

Inspired by Psalm 42:1/Romans 8:15/Hebrews 12:1