Monday 10 November 2014

MEDITATION IN THE RAIN


In the premature falling
Night

Head bowed bent
Forward against the absence
Of an Indian Summer

Rain like Rice Crispies
Snap-crackle-popping
On the flapping plastic
Of my hood

Wind whipped ears

My eyes in custody
See only the ground
On which I walk

Isolated

The world empty now
Except for the odd stray
Runner squawking seagull
Scared crow

Swan heads buried
In the river

Hidden
But not hiding

I think of all the false
Belongings

I have tasted

The true belonging
Of Love

That draws me in

To the Claddagh church
Before Mass

Enfolded in the radiance
Of Your Face
Lifted up to intimate communion

No comments:

Post a Comment