Tag Archives: poetry

Grief

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There are people in my life at the moment carry loss – deep loss, unexpected loss, unfair loss, wave after wave of losses and change. I find myself standing on the edges of it, breath held I fill up like a balloon holding the pressure of these things and hoping they will make a companion of grief when she calls. Hoping that they will be tender with themselves. This is the poem I have written for them.

…

she will come to you

of this I am sure

insistent, intense, quiet

…

and you will raise your voice

and your pace

and make snide comments in her presence

about people who wallow

instead of getting on

making the best of things

tough things happen to everyone

…

you will silently pat yourself on the back

even as your palms tingle

breath shortens

heart beats as a bird unwillingly caged

you feel her waiting

her breath hot upon your collar

…

she will not breach the high walls of your hard work

your effort

your white knuckled cheerful determination

…

as a friend I bid you welcome her

I do not deny it will be painful

for a time

all your fortifications knocked down

the city of your emotions ravaged

…

you will hate her

but

if you will finally raise the ragged flag of your surrender

you will find her not a tyrant

but a handmaid

…

she has not caused the wound

but she will undress and re-dress it

she will tend to its realities

gentle, she will offer you rest as a prescription

she will speak aloud the names you have forbidden

…

after a time she will whisper you lullabies

and hold you while you weep

collecting every tear

as evidence of

your courage to see and bear

and let your heart keep limping in its beating

…

friend

I bid you welcome grief

she is a tender companion

to accompany you

to the other side of this great wound

…

Miriam Jessie x

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Poetry … more from lockdown

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Lockdown, locked in, isolated.

Physical distance, social distance, zoom fatigue.

So has been and continues to be the experience of many this strange year.

This is the second piece of poetry I had published in Stimulus magazine earlier in the year.

It is called 19/20 (as in Covid19 in 2020)

may we all carry the weight and wonder of being incarnate for others.

Miriam Jessie x

Poetry and Covid

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I’m so thrilled and honoured to have my first piece of peer-reviewed poetry published in a special edition of Stimulus Journal.

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My piece is called telos (which means goal, the ending point of things). I wrote it in response to an experience I had while making the quilt top in the photo.

I hope it encourages you.

Miriam x

 

 

Lead Prayers – Mary Anoints Jesus

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This Holy Week I’ve recorded some reflections for people to participate with. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday I’m going to post one here each day for the next 4 days.

Each one features prayer, scripture and poetry or story and are accompanied by images by dear artist friends. They are about 20minutes long.

They are designed to be done in silence and reflection and could be integrated into your prayer practice. If you are new to reflective practice I encourage you to find a quiet space free from distractions and see it as a new way of praying. The music quality in this one is not great so maybe have a song cued that you can listen to during that part.

They are not without (many) imperfections. However, I hope that they might help in leaning into the days of this most Holy Week in these strangest of times.

The Room

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I was asked to give a talk on the value of creativity recently. I finished it with this poem.

May we all take up the room!

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THE ROOM

we stand here on the edge of a room

this room, our lives

we observe the players

moving across the floor

admire their skills

the grace with which they carry themselves

their confidence

 

but this room is our life

this one wild life we have been given

with such generosity

 

to stand in the world at this time

on this whenua

with these skills

with this voice that might ring out and make its story heard

 

are you hanging out at the edges?

convincing yourself to shrink so no-one will notice what you lack

allowing the brilliance of others to loom large

overshadowing your horizon

 

throw off the cloak of small surrender

and waddle like the toddler you know yourself to be

stand

in the centre of your life

and sing

or dance

or build your sandcastle

 

will you fall and fail?

or hit a wrong note

or find you can only create something imperfect?

 

yes, you will

 

you will be weaker than you’d like to be

disappointed in the gap

but you will be growing steadily into

skills that will one day inspire others

 

every child must crawl, or bum shuffle, or commando their own way to walking with confidence

so it is with us

 

if we are to be more than outputs measured by economic scales

if we are to tell the story we would like to tell

let us start today

with one small thing that brings us joy

 

apologising not

for taking up space in this life

 

may we hold life with wonder

do our thing with bravery

 

let us be curious,

let us be joyful,

let us be courageously creative in a world that invites us only to small perfections

 

let us take up space

let us own

the room

miriam jessie

x

The Mother Heart of God

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It can feel like a slippery fish to start using the term mother for ‘Abba’ God. Yet I am reminded today that the mother heart has its source in the same place as the father heart.

Our words are so limited.

Today I am reflecting on the joy and beauty of the mother’s love for us that exists. These are my reflections.

575ba-jn14embraceandhandsw

Anchor Me

The mother’s heart caterwauls loud within

My child

            notice

            see

            love

            include

 

Now I am a mother I can well appreciate

that ‘dreadful’ mother who approached Jesus

to petition for a place of honour for her sons

 

It is woven into the fabric of my life

this constant temptation

to promote

inflate

favour

 

the overwhelming desire, my constant companion,

for others to see

and notice

and love this child who keeps my wild heart in rhythm

 

What truly astounds me though is to think of you God

the mother heart that is from before beginning

            the mother heart from whom all other mother hearts were fashioned

the fierceness of that love

the depth of that knowing and noticing

the wildness of that advocacy

… now aimed at me, in all my splendid imperfection

 

To think I could be loved, as a daughter

by the very one

who longs to gather

whose name is comfort

who lives to intercede on my behalf

 

How well I know the very real need I have for intercession

yet,

just for a moment

 

Let me wiggle my toes deep

into the wet sand of being loved by you

so deep

I am anchored against the waves

so deep

that every sense knows

I am secure in an eternal mother’s love

 

though I may never comprehend its width

or plumb its depths

 

I am, in all my smallness

able to grasp its beauty, just a little

by knowing my own capacity

for mother’s love.

 

Blessings and love

x Miriam x

Holy Week

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These are my current musings as I journey Easter-ward.

May it bless you, may you find yourself accompanied on the way toward the narrative of difficulty, death, vigil and resurrection. May you have courage at every part of the journey to wait, to see, to understand and to continue on.

Bless you – wherever you are along the way.

Lords prayer forgiveness

This Week

This is a week to kneel in Gethsemane’s garden

to feel the gravel push hard into thin knee flesh

 

It is a week for letting go

for sweating blood and crying tears

fear

surrender

mercy

 

It is a week to show grace to friends who could not stay awake for us

A week for others to misunderstand the gravity of what we face

 

A week to acknowledge

the heart wants to run

the flesh is weak

the journey may be intensely lonely, despite the thronging crowds

 

It is a day to kneel as light turns to night

to feel the touch of cold hard wind on skin

to long to stay eternally in this moment because the way ahead is dark and dreadful

 

It is a night to remember the One who knelt for me

that I may remember I shall never kneel alone

there is no pit so deep his love is not deeper still*

no chasm so wide he will not cross to make a way for me to come

This is Gethsemane’s week

 *Corrie Ten Boom coined this phrase