Eating and drinking and marrying;
life goes on as it always has done.
We rise to the sound of the birds
and add our own peculiar melody
to that of creation. The birds gather
nectar from the grevilleas while we
ready ourselves for our daily tasks.
The world, in these parts,
is still very beautiful, even after
many dry years; and safe.
The whole world, of course, is much bigger
and significantly less safe,
than our own small corner;
and we hear often of the dark places
of fear and human disregard,
of fighting on the other side of the planet,
of refugee camps closer to our secure borders,
and of the homeless and bruised
in the dark corners of our neighbourhood.
Life goes on as it always has done.
But something happened a distant once,
as divine lips brushed gently
across frightened eyes to surprise,
and whispered softly to reassure,
and call claimingly;
declaring that love’s outrageous light
is newly and defiantly present,
that the rules had been rewritten,
and that life’s hitherto tightly defined parameters
are no longer fixed.
© Ken Rookes
Another poem for Advent Year A week one can be found here