Poetry Monday: Path

I’m off to Scargill House in Yorkshire this week, for an annual writers’ retreat led by Adrian and Bridget Plass. This poem was written for them, and the metaphor in it is one they often use: a narrow path of grace between the mountains of law and the swamp of licence.

You can find this poem beautifully illustrated by Sharon Kulesa in Drawn From Words. Along with Mandy Baker Johnson, we put this little book together after a creative Lent challenge in 2016. You can see and buy the book here.

Path

On one side, the path of law, a trail
through thirsty rocks, where all who try shall fail
and lose their lives beneath the glowering eye
of desert sun. That way I surely die.

The other side’s inviting: not so harsh,
but leads to sinking sand and muddy marsh
and haunted castles, entered willingly,
then locked. Who takes that path is never free.

The night comes closer. I must make my choice.
But then, what blessed relief – the shepherd’s voice!
His torch is all that shows me to my place:
this narrow beam, the flickering path of grace.

Poetry Mondays: Patchwork

Today’s poem is a meditation on a patchwork quilt, written years ago when I started a ‘poetry blog’.  I’m not even going to link to that blog, which flailed about for a bit and then stopped, but I’m still proud of some of the poems there, and will be moving them in here bit by bit. I’ve tweaked this one a little because the scansion wasn’t quite right.  Some of it is still not quite right, but I think that expresses the rustic charm of a patchwork quilt made from scraps.

Patchwork

Patchwork’s the craft of rescuing dreams,
a fabric of memories fastened in seams,
where old is not worthless and scraps are not poor,
where awkward shapes fit and where less can be more.
A conglomeration, collection, selection
of numerous oddities viewed with affection.
The disparate cloths to the right and the left
now match in bright harmonies found in the weft
and whether the eye traces high up or down
a hanky may sit indistinct from a gown.
Each chosen and precious, the pieces all share
a holy identity through being there
The kingdom of heaven’s all over the place:
wrapped in a quilt lies an image of Grace.