Author: poetryandliving

As I hold your hand in mine,

My heart is full of dread.

Losing you now

Feels like the setting

Of the sun.

Darkness falling,

Links loosening,

Lives splitting apart.

I have missed your being

I have missed your touch.

Loss of the hands

That cradled and first held me,

That nurtured and cared for me.

Soothing, warming, healing hands

Now crippled, bent and cold.

Soon now – a new dawn,

Time to be free,

To be whole again.

Lighten up this life a little.

The stuff that brought us here

Is still within.

Mystical Magic

Dancing and shimmering

Flittering all about.

Radiant as the sun.

The stuff of angels and stardust

Of wonder and dismay.

The stuff of laughter and love

Of poetry and song.

The stuff of delight and discovery

Of music and melody.

The stuff of goodness and joy

Of childhood and fairy tale.

The stuff of oneness and wisdom

Of hero and heroine.

The stuff we seek is what we hold

And we hold the light of life.

Desire is a matter of the heart

Flowing at the core of my being.

Often unclear,

Wanting to be heard,

To become,

To be fulfilled.

I struggle to find the words

And even then, who will hear them?

There are no words

For the deepest desire of the heart.

There is no “who”

To wait on for the answer.

But there is a truth inside,

And a Knower of that truth

That surely guides my way.

Connection, love, need

Have brought us to your door.

Steel-grey walls – austere and cold,

Belie the loving hearth and home.

A holy candle six foot tall

Where once a flame was lit

To light the dark and set a spark

For seekers one and all.




A crib, a font, an icon hanging on the wall

The setting sun lights up the room,

A full and busy life comes into view,

Your books in line and now we see

A desk where precious thoughts

Were penned and bound to touch

The hearts of people all around.



There, music and laughter filled the air,

A glass or two of wine were shared

And talk of love and life were found.

Your jacket hangs upon the chair

Like many a morning you were there

That day we felt the loss, 

We grieved for you

And as the sun rose in the sky,

We bowed on holy ground 

And said a prayer.

I bless the source of the happening

That brought awareness and form

To my existence.

That awoke aspect and relationship

In my being.

You are always

On the inside and out.

In the darkness and light.

Between the tension and ease.

In the knowing and the unknowing.

In my longing You guide me.

In my living You teach me.

In my loving You are revealed in me.

We are wiser than we know.

Intellect - not only in the head.

Brain - thoughtful, knowledgeable,

Through connection

Instructs our being and our doing.




Heart – creative, centred,

Embraces our concerns,

Fleshes our needs

And, when open, issues

The flame of love in our lives.




Gut – secret and responsive,

Seat of wisdom,

Grounds what the brain thinks

And the heart desires.




Three wise centres, conjunct,

Enrich our lives.

Listen to each,

They unify and complete.   

We pitched our tent on the outskirts

And walked in the dark of night,

Stride for stride, hand in hand, well clad.

Like Sumos wrestling against the wind.

Warm in the laughter between us.

A trickle of light at dawn

Brought us hope

And closer to the holy place.




Entering the mystery

By the narrow gate.

Barely standing room at the sacred wall.

A stone hollowed by touch,

Inviting connection, motherly love.

White robes billow in the wind,

Humble Pope in silence prays.

He came to visit Knock




A gathering of people

Destined to be here,

Like others a century or more ago.

What miracles will manifest today?

What wounds laid bare to the lamb?

What joy found in communion?

What love hiding in discovery?

We came to see the Pope,

We came to visit Knock.

A bunch of flowers

Waiting to be transformed.

Each one known, named and picked

Just for the occasion by you –

Sweet pea, Blue Veronica, Jasmine,

Snapdragon, Dalia, Baby’s Breath.

Fragrant blooms, cut with care,

Shaped and intertwined.

Carefully crafted by skilful hands.

Created to send their soft scent

And deliver their message of love,

Friendship, thanks or remembrance,

Always from the heart of the giver.

Your being here,

The sharing of your life

Enriches us.

Inspired thoughts

Reflected by your words,

Resound and echo

In our hearts.

From here, let's trust.

Let spirit grow

And wisdom guide our way.

When I die

I want to be

In the sights and sounds

Of a forest green.

There with a faithful friend

Who makes me smile!

Close upon my heels.

With purple heather in full bloom,

Air with the scent of pine

And thrush and blackbird singing sweet.

I want to be bathed

In the rays of a warm embrace.

Carried by the flow of love.

When I die,

I want to be home in the familiar –

The true centre of me.

I want to live

Within the beauty and goodness

My heart has sometimes known

And often ached for.

When I die,

I want to be with

The essence of all I have loved

Once embodied in this world

And long imprinted on my soul.