Ticking Tocker

I’m ticked off
With my tocker –
Seems the ticking
And the tocking
Ain’t behaving
As they should.
The tick takes the mick
And the tocking?
Well it’s just mocking,
With it’s subnormal
Ejections and infarctions
(Or whatever they call
Those reflex reactions).
Seems that the string
Section sees my baton
Flapping in fortissimo
But the percussionist
Plays the timpani like
His heart isn’t quite in it
(No pun intended, or is it?).
So my ticking tocker’s
Ticking is working, twitching,
But my ticking tocker’s
Tocker is lacking, flopping,
And the tachycardial flapping
Of my tick-tocking valves
Is flopping when it should
Be flapping, and flitting when
It should be flatting
(or is that flat-lining?).
My pacemaker is no
Peacemaker, and anxiety
Won’t help, but wired as
I am to this other ticking
Tocker it would help
If they could find each
Other’s time zone and
Synchronise their beats,
So that my tocker hears
My ticker and responds
With full aplomb, and
The valves do more
Dilating and ejecting
From day one.
Mortal flesh is so
Temperamental with
Its built-in obsolescence
And its best before date
Is behind it, gone,
Yet I know that I am
More than my ticking
Tocker, and my life is
Conducted by a different
Rhythm – more a waltz
Than a two-step –
So when this old ticker
Stops ticking and the
Final tock gives out
I’ll still be here, dancing,
With the new heart
HE gave me long ago
Which doesn’t so much
Tick-tock, but sings
A hymn of life itself,
And if you listen carefully
You’ll hear the song,
“Be still and know
That I AM GOD”
“I have loved you with
An everlasting love”
“Your flesh and your heart
May fail, but I AM the
Strength of your heart
And your portion forever.”

For Allyn, my friend and brother.

Given and received

All I am is known
In love’s embrace,
With arms held close,
And open wide.
Here love is gift, given,
And love is gift, received.
Where close to you
Your heart beats
Strong and sure
In harmony with mine,
And when I’m far off
Your heart calls out
To me in gentle song of
Drawing love, beckoning.
For near or far, our
Hearts remain one,
When love is mutually
And perpetually
given and received.

Fatigued

Fatigue,
Leading to
Frustration,
Leading to
Fighting,
Leading to
Fall out:
If we could rest
And plan and be
Aware of the need
For balance
And rhythm
And sleep,
Then the world
Would seem brighter,
And circumstances better,
And people more human,
And we more patient,
And mercy would
Triumph over judgment,
And love cover a
Multitude of sins.

Closer, and closer

Closer, and closer
Deeper, and deeper
When two are one
And one becomes
Many, becoming
Closer, and closer
Deeper, and deeper
When I becomes we
And we become one
Together, becoming
Closer, and closer
Deeper, and deeper
When although apart
Our oneness, intricate
And intimate, remains
Closer, and closer
Deeper, and deeper
I-ness, and oneness.

Uncle Jim

I remember you,
Uncle Jim,
With your shifty
‘Tasch and slicked
Back shoulder length
Hair, kept pristine
Since 1972 (or maybe ’73?).
Man and boy you
Worked the trains
At Preston station,
Just like your dad,
(And his dad before him).
The Intercity belchers
Filling your lungs with
Diesel, puff-puffing
As you puff-puffed
On your biftas
(Rolled your own –
Cheaper that way).
The (not so) famous
Landmark – the level
Crossing on the A6
At Bamber Bridge –
Was often where we’d
Meet: me in my school
Blazer and tie, you in
Your raincoat, both on
The top deck of the
256 bus to Chorley.
The wink, the nod,
The mumbled “‘oright?”,
The “how’s your mum?”
(Not really interested,
Just being polite).
A man of few words you
Enjoyed the simple pleasures:
Up at the crack to work
The trains, then home to
Your mum for your tea,
Before having 1 or 2
(Or maybe 3) at the local
Pub a short stagger from
Your front door.
Your dedication to this
Pattern was as impressive
As it was tragic, and when
Your mum was dying
And you didn’t lift a finger
To help her in her own
Wretchedness, you showed
A steely determination to
Hold fast to your decades-
Long routine and not be
Knocked off your stride
By mere inconvenience.
But no one expected you
To come home that fateful
Night, the trains all buffered
And in their sidings, and sit
In your stained, Plumbs
Stretch-covered armchair
And die of a broken heart.
It was less than a year since
Your mum had been laid
To rest, and all her estate
Divided between you and
The hallowed firstborn
(And a copper or two for
“The other two”, disowned),
And how it seemed so ironic
That the girlfriend your mum
Couldn’t stand inherited the
Lot: lock, stock and two-up-
Two-down barrel, as you
Sat their, roly at the ready,
As what was left of your
Heart packed in.

Child of grace

A child of grace
You came as
One of us
To touch each
Heart full of joy
At love’s embracing
Held in mother’s arms
With trusting ease
Smiling tender sweet
As a child of grace.

A ‘palindromic’ poem, which can be read starting at either end, for my Goddaughter, Hannah Emma Grace

When the time came

When the time came,
As suddenly as it was
Expected, the time
Passed, but not spent,
Is the time upon which
We dwell. Bittersweet
Partings were so
Future-distant when first
We reunioned, and time
Was long and wide open,
And plans were loose
And fancy free, but
Now the acute tick-tocking
Awareness of seconds
Passing by and never
Stopping reminds us
Of the relentless truth
That when the time came
It also went.

Moment

Slow beat walking,
Breathing each breath,
Seeing everything in sight;
Letting each moment have
Its unrepeated moment.
We think that speed is
Measured as distance covered
Divided by the time it takes,
But often in speed we do not
Take the time
And we instead divide ourselves,
And the only distance we cover
Is that which takes us further and
Farther away from ourselves
And our eternal Father.
In the slowness you can see
That although the bush is burning
It is not consumed.
In the slowness you can join the
Swell of each moment as myriad
Of things and thoughts praise
GOD who has made that moment
That moment.
In the pause you can hear the
Applause of angels giving tribute
To the wisdom and power and glory
And strength that sustains
The universe moment by still,
Small, momentary moment.

Burning bush

Diving for pearls

As I was lying in bed the other night, on my way to falling asleep, somewhere between semi-conscious thought and dream I saw a scene in my mind’s eye of a pearl diver.
What was apparent to me was that the depth at which the diver had swum was at the utter limit of his reach, experience and breath.

In this scene, at the very edge of the diver’s limit, just inches beyond, lay the perfect pearl – the parabolic “pearl of greatest price” (Matt 13:45-46).
In order to reach the pearl the diver would have to go beyond the limit of his breath, beyond the limit of his experience, and risk blacking out, or even dying if he was to possess the pearl.
It was in going beyond his limits that the pearl was possessed. The diver took the pearl and ascended back towards the light of day and the fresh air above the water’s surface.

As I reflected on this scene in the following days I was aware of how much of what I do, and what I believe is possible, comes from my experience as a human being bound by the physical laws of this universe.
But there are so many things – too many things – in our lives which simply don’t fit the categories of physical natural laws.
But then that is consistent with the truth that the material universe is not all there is and physical laws aren’t the only laws even if they are the most prevalent and dominant in our day-to-day reality.

As I reflected more deeply I was drawn to the necessity of breath for life and how for the pearl diver his last breath was always potentially his final one, and yet his last breath was like a doorway either to the next breath and life as normal, or a doorway which leads to death itself.
The pearl diver was bound to his last breath for everything he was hoping to achieve. Surviving on that last breath alone was for him the difference between finding his pearl and returning or exhausting it and dying.

But what if he decided to go further? What if he decided to go beyond his last breath and the outcome wasn’t death but more life? The fear of his last breath running out would prevent him from ever finding out if there was life beyond that last breath, and whether a final breath of one kind could be the beginning of another kind of breath.

So the pearl plays its part, because it’s only in the pursuit of the pearl that the diver will risk everything on his last breath. The invitation to live beyond his life-limit comes in the form of the pearl of greatest price.
To possess the pearl he must risk everything.
In risking everything he possesses the pearl.

The gospel writer notes that on the cross Jesus drew his final breath, and then he died (Mark 15:37). He wrote this so that we know that Jesus had died. This is important because unless he has died then the fact that he is alive again on the 3rd day isn’t resurrection but some form of resuscitation.

In John’s gospel he writes about Jesus coming to his disciples after his resurrection. Jesus breathes on his disciples and says to them, “receive the Holy Spirit” (John 20:22).
Having previously taken his last and final breath, Jesus is now breathing on his disciples with a new kind of breath; a breath that transfers to them the presence of the Holy Spirit.
Whether there is a literal transfer or not, the image of Jesus breathing is intentional. The presence of GOD ‘in’ us by His Holy Spirit is like our own breath. Our breath is so close to us; it’s in us; it permeates into our entire being and transfers in and out of us, energising the body and keeping it alive. So it is with the Holy Spirit.

Jesus had to breathe his last breath and risk everything on that last breath to know for sure that there was a different life beyond; one where he would go on breathing but in a completely new way.
But the last breath isn’t necessarily the final one; it’s just the last one. Every day we have the choice to take our last breath in all manner of circumstances or situations. Whenever we feel that we are reaching our limit and the thing we know we need and are reaching for is just inches beyond that limit, in that moment we have to choose whether we will risk everything on that last breath and discover the life beyond, or whether we’ll give in to fear and pull back to the surface.
This is the life of faith because you simply cannot know until you are in that beyond-place. Faith turns our beliefs into actions that take us beyond our limits.

I  believe I saw that dreamlike scene so that I would recognise that I too need to risk everything on that last breath to discover that I can breath beyond it, and in doing so I too can possess the pearl of greatest price.

This is a reflective poem I wrote to try and capture some of the soul of what I saw and to creatively reflect it back to GOD as a creative gift of insight, love and life.

The Pearl Diver
Down into the deep
The pearl diver descends.
Like a stone pillar he drops
Through fathoms vertically,
Searching for the pearl;
The one of greatest price.
In the deepest depths,
Where even light
Is crushed to darkness,
His life reaches its limit;
His last breath exhausted,
Depleted;
His mind and body
Saturated by toxic spent air.
It’s only when his limit reached
And blackness covers his
Consciousness, as the deep,
And death’s cloak begins
To shroud and coldly grip,
That he will find his pearl,
Just out of reach. But,
Pushing through and dying
To that fear in full surrender
Will extend his fingers – just –
To grasp the pearl and draw
It heavenwards; letting go
In buoyant ascendency
Until the light appears,
And deep returns to shallow.
Where once he had, since,
Breathed his last he now
Can breathe once more.
But now his breath is freer
And his life aliver still,
For he found his pearl and
With it found his life;
The one that lived beyond
That final breath and hid
Deep below with that
Seasoned pearl, worn round
In perfect grace-filled suffering:
His pearl of greatest price.