Tag: poem

Deep Dark

In response to Mr G’s earlier piece, Dispelling darkness with light came this.  When asked how I imagine God, the sensation that always forms within me is of deep, rich, velvety darkness – an enfolding – and a profound sense of safety.  There’s something a bit imperceptible about it: neither warm nor cool, but at blood heat, meaning that at times you have to pay attention to notice God’s presence.  A bit like a second skin….  It’s strange in a way that this image or feeling should have formed for me because as a child I was scared of the dark – but maybe that’s telling too – something about trust, perhaps. 

And at times, when things seem bleak and dark and starved of light, it feels as though God might be absent too.  That primal fear of the dark night and what it might contain surfaces in us and leaves us feeling alone and anxious. 

So much of our language revolves around the notion of light countering the darkness.  Yet it was God who said ‘Let there be light’ – God, who existed before the light came into being.  So seek and know God in the darkness too…

Piers

Durham 1985

Miners’ Band & Banner leaving Durham Cathedral today.
image copyright Friends of Durham Miners’ Gala

Durham 1985

(Inspired by the end of the Miners’ strike leading to  the closure of mines in the North East)

They marched proudly,
those broken men who broke the coal
that fuelled the Nation.
The bowels of the earth
are silent now as are
the spirits within.
Yet, entering their Cathedral
they filled that ancient space
with music.
Even in brokenness they transcended
actions of Powers
who would have preferred them to be silent.

… and Bishop Jenkins wept.

[Mr G]

(the miners’ strike lasted from 1984-5. At the end the Government got its way and closed a lot of pits, throwing over 25,000 out of work. Many communities suffered and bear the scars still. For his love, care and support Bishop David Jenkins was called, the Miners’ Bishop’. During his sermon at the Gala Service, he broke down in tears for his beloved mining communities and for those who were desperate with need)
Today (July 9th) the Miner’s Gala, normally an annual event, has returned to Durham, after Covid. 5 new Banners (a feature of the Gala) were dedicated and blessed by the present Bishop of Durham, during the service in the Cathedral.

Gethsemane Moon

Gethsemane Moon

I lit you,
bloodied and wet, the Virgin’s arms   
shaping your first cradle

I lit you
as, late evening, the chisels
work you strove to perfect 

I lit you,
clear nights lakeside,
bringing vocation to hairy fish men

I lit you,
days end, crowd-pressed,
healing-weary, and word spent

I lit you,
late nights hillside,
your Father’s love, your bed

I lit you,
early on that palm-strewn path
destined for faux glory

I light you
now, here, through olive shade,
cool light mirrored blue on beaded brow,
shadowed terror,
and gold glimpses of angels’ arms
shaping your last cradle.

Julia Sheffield
Maundy Thursday 2022

Play the Piano for me.


I call this ‘Broken Music’. It is by the Afghan street artist Shamsiah Hassani.
She did much to inspire women in Kabul to be empowered and confident in a male dominated society.
After the Taliban took over, she moved away from Afghanistan and her work now has a global perspective. One of her recent paintings, Damn the War, was addressed to the people of the Ukraine.
I have chosen this one to illustrate a poem I wrote on International Piano Day.

A poem on International Piano day  

Play the piano for me.
I wish to hear music.
Play notes to calm my fears,
Soothing my soul from anxiety.

I live in a world ripped apart by sounds
gurgling up from the bowels of hell.
Bombs, missiles, bullets,
Angry tanks, guttural sounds of soldiers.
Many are far from home, tired too, hungry.
bewildered.
Sucked in by masters whose only language is hatred.
Their words a cacophony of crashing disharmony
mixed with disillusionment.
Such cankered and disfigured hearts,
no longer at one with the music that created them.

Buildings shake and discard the rubble of their former life.
Incessant noise, unceasing ruin.
No symphony.
No sympathy.

Wars begin in hearts crumpled by demonic blackness.
Is this hell?
Despair. The concerto of annihilation.

But, if you play music to us,
We may find a way out of all this.
Your sound of note caressing note,
sprinkles  kindness over us ,  and love;
showing us where we need to be.

As the piano music  lifts my heart,
I hear it’s tune –
There is more than hell on earth.
There is earth raised up to heaven.

Mr G. 29.3.2022

Please look at the work of Shasiah Hassani either on Instagram or by Googling her name.
There are a number of interesting and informative articles about her,