The 22nd of July is Mary Magdalene’s day, and continuing my sequence of sonnets written in response to the church year I post this for her. As usual you can hear the poem by clicking on its title or on the ‘play’ button. This sonnet is drawn from my collection Sounding the Seasons, published by Canterbury Press [...]
Who would have thought that so much philosophy could be found in such little poetry? Who would have thought that so much could be said in so few words? Next time you read Shakespeare, read carefully, and you may find more philosophy than first meets the eye. We have recently celebrated the feast of Corpus [...]
William Butler Yeats’ poem “The Second Coming” presents a dark vision that captures the mood of our age, when all seems to be disintegrating into chaos. His prophetic foresight is even more remarkable in that he sees the Sphinx-like beast rising from the deserts of the East. While the world spins forward in what seems [...]
The Ascension was a unique event because it was a first in human history. When Jesus was “taken up into heaven,” what really happened was that the door swung open for physical humanity to be divinized. By this action the physical was actually brought into heaven and a physical dimension was introduced to the spiritual [...]
The 20th Century is marked by the loss of voices cut short in mid-song by war. There have been so many dark centuries in the history of Christendom that one hesitates to call any particular century the darkest of all. Some have been as dark as the 20th century, but none have been as deadly. [...]
Crisp in whites, eight men up, four on a side, slow-step the horizontal coffin across the flat expanse of our carrier, toward the edge. The decks are quieted. Crews of men in oil-spotted work clothes give a wide perimeter. The air hangs vacantly, with no women present to stitch that familiar dense knot, that compact [...]
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain - and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and [...]
The last cool star of dawn was foretelling the brightest sunshine; no cloud, no drift of mist was travelling across any part of the sky. Coming from there, the breeze blew so sweetly across the face, so gently, that it seemed to whisper to the depths of the heart: ‘Life is sweet and death is [...]
The Stations of the Cross, which form the core of my book Sounding the Seasons, are intended to be read on Good Friday. We will read the 13th and 14th tomorrow on Holy Saturday and then on Easter Morning we will have the 15th’ resurrection’ station and also a new villanelle that I have written for [...]
IV Jesus meets His Mother This darker path into the heart of pain Was also hers whose love enfolded him In flesh and wove him in her womb. Again The sword is piercing. She, who cradled him And gentled and protected her young son Must stand and watch the cruelty that mars Her maiden making. [...]
E.E. Cummings’ attitude to dogma and formal religion may have remained skeptical, but true to his Unitarian roots, he retained respect for spirituality and a simple reverence towards the Almighty. Echoing the transcendentalism of Emerson, Whitman and Thoreau, Cummings bursts forth with simple, lyrical praise for God and nature. What shall we make of Edward [...]
Now, in Passiontide, Christ becomes all the more visibly, our companion. We walk with him and see him face and overcome our own worst fears, we see him take on, in us and for us, the pain the frailty, the fear the failure, and the death itself that haunt and shadow our life. We stay [...]
This strange Holy Week has begun in tears: tears of frustration, tears of lament, and for so many who have been cruelly bereaves, tears of grief. It’s hard to see through tears, but sometimes its the only way to see. Tears may be the turning point, the springs of renewal, and to know you have [...]
Whereas Chaucer had depicted April as the bringer of life that lifts the hearts of the faithful, T.S. Eliot curses April for its cruelty in bringing back to life things and thoughts that were best left dead and buried. April is the cruellest month…. The opening words of The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot are [...]