The well Fed by generations, torrents of history running wild within the earth, the holy ground shaped and watered by the tears of war and weddings, piety and pity. Still waters run deep within the earth, seep between the shoulders of the land, shrugging off the stories that we tell, shifting and settling, remembering when it was all, when all was shapeless 

Thinking about the well, the woman, the land, its Creator, the prince of peace.
#preparingforSundaywithpoetry

Foundering As though created in mid-airand surprised, the lamb fellwithout foothold down the cliffand into the stream where we,speechless, sandwiches halfwayto open mouths watched itpick up and shake itself backto life , quiet waters clinging to wool,green pastures calling, it ran onas though pursuedby all the hounds of heaven.

Admittedly late in the day to be #preparingforSundaywithpoetry
Foundering

To count them A meditation on verses from Psalm 139

This week's #preparingforSundaywithpoetry focuses on Psalm 139, and comes from this morning's prayer, which involved lying on the floor for a while.

Fire Storm that breaks the sealon the dome that holds the watersof the heavens apart from watersthat brooded life into creation Storm that breaks the heateven as fire is splitting the sky,falling to the ground wrappedin quenching rain Mirrored against the glory of God,the bow formed by the prism of lovearced across the quivering earth —

Fire
#preparingforSundaywithpoetry

Bread Bread Who, in the night, would give their neighbour stones and say, "Here, make bread."

Bread

Who, in the night,
would give their neighbour stones
and say, "Here, make bread."

#preparingforSundaywithpoetry

Who is my neighbour? Unseen in the shadow of the story, a young cub of the mountain watching the value of love lavished like oil, profligate pity; following at a distance to see if kindness was really worth the weight of stolen gold

Who is my neighbour?
#preparingforSundaywithpoetry
after a “little” hiatus

Signs Though the sun fail, I will look for your light. The scarred and subtle moon draws tides high above our understanding of the depths of your mercy or our judgement. The fig tree, survivor, of your kindness growing peace offerings in the midst of a world inflamed with dissipation, marriage of desire and despair, bearing hope against all expectations, a lantern swaying…

#preparingforSundaywithpoetry as Advent draws near

If salt has lost its saltiness If my salt has lost its saltiness will the sun still rise in the morning? If my fire has lost its spark will the moon still hang pale in the afternoon sky? There are days, Lord,…

#preparingforsundaywithpoetry salt losing saltiness edition
Mark 9:49-50

There are days, Lord, not to get salty 
with you, when I might feel 
as though the ocean has rolled me 
and the pestle has crushed me 
and I am granulated, smattered, dissolved. ..

rosalindhughes.com/2024/09/27/i...

Give me something to eat

Of course they had fish – remember who they were.
Like little boys with their little loaves
and a few small fish, watching his hands
as they broke the flesh pierced by their hooks …

rosalindhughes.com/2024/04/10/g...

#preparingforSundaywithpoetry

It knew, as animals do,
more than the crowd,
felt beneath its hooves
the blood of the branches,
stones slickened with sap,
the vibrations of voices hungry
for release; heard the heartbeat
of the man astride its back,
... rosalindhughes.com/2024/03/22/a...
#preparingforSundaywithpoetry

The risk for the seed -
consumed by birds,
razed by the sun,
drowned by hail and fire
falling like rain -
the risk of being broken
open, swallowed
by the earth,
digested and transformed
into new generations ...

rosalindhughes.com/2024/03/14/u...
#preparingforSundaywithpoetry #Lent5B

I am not strong to carry your cross or mine.
I stagger beneath the weight of your command
yet knowing all the time
that you have called your burden easy.
Your hands and feet tell another story,
unwashed yet from their bodily defeat ..

#preparingforSundaywithpoetry
rosalindhughes.com/2024/02/20/t...

Cast out Demons shake and scream; for God alone my soul in silence waits. Something deep within mutters "unclean"; for God alone my soul in silence waits. Power demands authority, but humility whispers and spi...

#preparingforsundaywithpoetry
(Do we do #s here?)

Demons shake and scream; 
for God alone my soul in silence waits. 
Something deep within mutters "unclean"; 
for God alone my soul in silence waits. …

rosalindhughes.com/2024/01/23/c...

Anything good this way comes, 
fragrant from the desert, 
fat from fasting, 
presumptuous in his humility,
faint traces of aloe 
following him like a draft, 
children hanging from his heels 
like lambs …
#preparingforsundaywithpoetry
rosalindhughes.com/2024/01/09/a...

A parable for the anxious Her voice rasped like a struck match from crying out her wares: Oil! Get your oil here! Don’t run out. She spent her days like a candleburned at both ends, her core alight with the vision of a s...

Don't know what I'm doing here yet, but elsewhere I write a poem a week on the Gospel reading for Sunday; #preparingforSundaywithpoetry , as it were.
I need a snappier hashtag. In the meantime, here's a poem on the parable tailor-designed to make me anxious.
rosalindhughes.com/2023/11/07/a...