The Overshadowing

Mary's body Was over shadowed
By the power
Of the Most high
What happened, within
The Nebulous shadow
Happened to her
Without a sigh
As woven in the secret
Deepest, Darkest place
The light was born
Of truth
And grace
That would soon eclipse
Us all,

And Mary
Took each bit
Of light
And shade
And Gathered it
To her soul

And, In that moment
Of Divine acceptance
Surrendered will
She, herself
was Over shadowed
By the light
Now growing
Glowing,
Starting to fill,
Her womb,
Her heart
Her world,

So many shadows
Yet to be unfurled,

And gathered round the manger,
On Bethlehem's brightest night,
An ominous darkness Overshadows,
Creeping in the corners
Of our sight,
The arrival of joy,
Resounds echoes of loss,
The guiding starlight casts over the manger
The Shadow of
The coming cross.

Empty Spaces

Christmas is full
Of gaps,

The gap between waking
And opening presents,
The space in your belly,
To be filled with Turkey
And Mince Pies,

The space, in the middle of a cracker,
The ever lessening gap,
Decreasing between your thighs,

The gap between unwrapping,
Underwhelming gifts,
And sincerest of thankful replies,

The gap between what we expect to receive
And that which actually arrives,

The gap between what we can afford to spend
And our budgets limitations

The gap between western wealth
and so many impoverished nations,

The space where compassion should be
For the homeless on our streets
When we blow a weeks wages
On trainers for our feet,

The space between the good that we want to do
And the resources at our dispense
The distance between family members
Kept by sitting on the fence,

But the biggest and most glaring gap
is the smallest one of all
The pin-head size gap
The microdot
Embedded in the uterus wall,
The virgins uterus wall,
The hopeless void into which
The Christ child stepped
To bridge the gap
For all.

The Invitation

We are holding
An open stable
Just moved in
To your neighbourhood
We'd like to invite you
To a Christmas table
We'd love you to come
Bad and Good

Come as you are
In onesy, tracksuit
Or Sunday best
Come, if you like,
In your birthday suit
You wont be under dressed

The guest of honour
will be naked too
If you pick him up
He may puke on you
He may poke your eye
And smell of poo
But he is completely
Accepting of you,

What's that you say,
How vulnerable you feel
When going to a strangers'
For a sit down meal
Well the son of God
Knows exactly how you feel
But dining at the stable
Being vulnerable’s the deal

But it's worth it for the food
And you wont ever be misconstrued

So Come all ye faithless
Broken and despondent
O Come ye,
O Come ye,
To Bethlehem.

Before

Before the foundation
was laid, The lamb,
Was slain, Proclaimed,
The great I am,

Before Moses,
Before Abraham,
Before Adam,
Gave a damn,

Before the problem,
The solution was formed,
Before the first skin,
was ever warmed,
Before the Sun,
was the custodian,
Of all that is old,
The new thing is done,
Before it unfolds,

In the Heart of God
It's finished,
it is done,
The ancient eyes
On what's to become,
Late in time,
Behold him, Son,
Before the battle
The fight is won,

And as Adam walked
In new felt shame,
The word, was as naked,
As candle flame,
The light was the life of men,
And we behold his glory,
Now as then,

He shone in the darkness
Not that darkness could understand
To give light to the whole house,
He put him on a stand,

In the beginning.

Heavy light

When truth came
it found me wanting;

I shone its beams
Into the dusky recesses
Of the abandoned building
In which I had taken refuge,
And huddled, startled and
Hugging my drawn in knees for comfort
It's torchlight hit my sallow skin, in the dark
And found me blinking
Malnourished
And confused,
Blinking in this strange light
Like a creature of the deep.

When truth came
It found me
And it bought ugliness
As I slowly discovered
That it was not the light that I feared
But what it revealed.

The beauty of the light
bought so much ugliness
And again I craved the darkness,

To retract;
To blot out every memory of what I'd seen,
Even the whispish traces of sight itself.

I said in my heart
'Surely the darkness will hide me'
And in my withdrawal,
this 'light' become darkness around me once more,

But it could no longer hide me,
Once the truth had come
And found me wanting,
And I found myself,
squint eyed,
Forced to eye-feast on the squalor around me,

And very slowly
My soul attuning,
My eyes adjusting
Even opening now and then,
I began to see
That the light itself
was beautiful,
That it caused things to grow,
That it was a source of warmth
That it led me out
Of the security of ignorance,
Out of the ugliness
Of darkness.
.

But
Every now and then
It brings up something
Which drives me to seek the darkness once more

But there is nowhere to hide
Even the darkness
Is as light
In the truth
That is the way of it.

Surely you desire truth
In my innermost being
And so
Like a cat caught in a sunbeam
I stretch out into it
This beautiful light
That brings ugliness
This warmth
Which tells me
Just how cold I'd become,
I stretch out and
Against my better judgement
I offer myself to its rays.

Splayed

I see your moment now,
From an angle,
From a vantage I'd never expected,
Penned as it was,
Pinned as you were,

Like an insect in museum,
In a glass box,
The glass box,
With the  dark glass of scripture,
Translated from flesh to word,
to convey to me,
What my heart cannot conceive,
The word a window through which I peer,

At times in wonder and fascination,
At times in revulsion,
Drawn to look,
Like I am to some rabbit guts,
As I cycle past the carnage.

But not as in a museum,
Not as with insect;
This specimen is alive,
Squirming,
Pivoting on nine inch pins,
An uncomfy cross,
The pins through palms,
Like pens nail it down,
For the gospel writers,

He is living here in this moment,
It is no scene of death,
It is the death that will never die,
He is pinned to that wooden frame,
For all to see,
Splayed,

Arms open,
Like it or not,
"Here I am",
A forced offering of embrace,
To which he gave himself,
For better,
For worse,

Arms open to receive,
All hurled insults,
As the spit runs down his face,
His shame,
And ours,
Displayed for all,
Exposed,
Splayed,

And that loincloth,
That humanity, in fake modesty, placed
For the more sensitive visitors,
To this living museum of scripture,
That loincloth,
Was never there.

Here I am,
Splayed,
Displayed,
Look at me,
Look at me,
Now,
Through windows of history,

Here I am, hanging here,
All that is man,
All that is God,
In this shop window darkly,
Spit polish with your sleeve,
Rub away the grime of mystery,

Splayed,
Your fear,
Mob mentality,
Mob justice,
Rebellion,
Hate,
Greed,
Shame,
Splayed,

The depths of Gods love,
The unending mercy of his grace,
As they spat and cursed,
They missed the expression on his face,
His infuriating, forgiving Smile,
Displayed,
Splayed,

The visible image of the invisible.

Little Deaths

The wise man told me,
That every day,
Is full of little deaths;
Dying wishes.
Dying breaths.

That if in each tiny,
Microcosmic dying,
We meet our maker,
Within the sighing,

Then we can start
Our dying well,
That in the end
Our life will tell,

That the sting has met its salve
That fear shall no longer imprison
Our hearts resolve,

In the letting go,
We go home,
In the lifeless husk
A seed is sown,

In dying a little,
Every dying day,
In losing all,
We find our way,

When life is full
Of dying well,
Then heaven holds
No fear of hell,

So give me this day,
My daily death
Give me my bread
As you give me breath
Give me my life
As you give me my cross
To live and die for you
And not count the loss