I Am Said I (Huruma)

Awaking what is dormant…giving sound to the silence I’m thinking about the arrival of Jesus, the new arrival for this time in my life, for all our time and I wonder in what space will he choose to be born again. There are the usual suspects – my sin, the areas of my life where I’m not in control, my vulnerability. But then I remember an add on tv. A man is walking along the corridor of his company building when he hears an old phone ringing. The sound comes from behind a door of ‘The Complaints Department’. The man enters the room which is covered in dust and cobwebs; he answers the phone, listens to the voice on the other end of the line and replies something like, “sorry, you’ve got the wrong number!” The product they are advertising has not had a complaint in years and there is no complaint now, so the man emerges from the room satisfied and he closes the door on the gathered dust within. I’d like to be able to stand before God with no complaint made agai...

Nights I cannot sleep Mornings I cannot wake It’s one of those times Now Twenty five minutes Past twelve Midday This house is my soul The kitchen its centre Telling the prayer Of a battered chair Ablutions in a cold Basin Cinder ashes tumbled On the concrete floor No fire An idle shovel leaning There for want Of a hand Holy water Faded photo Clear memory The sieved life Womanly pink painted Over manly blue Peeling away The old distinctions Male or female No different now In Him ii He is not here The One I love He might have gone The One I need My Saviour Brother Beyond The fields of herding Cows Over the hills of grazing Sheep It could be late When He returns Or am I the absent one The blind who cannot See The numb who does not Feel? The Immaculate Heart On the mantle piece Must help me here Assure me That we will connect Again That He is here Even in the waiting Emptiness Take the shirt that hangs There waiting too , She says Be covered, comforted Warmed in the scented Meantime...