When the wine gave out

Those things that have grown weary
and no longer serve their purpose,
are to be cast aside;
their place will be taken
by the eager and determined.

The caterers’ miscalculations
threaten to bring the nuptial celebrations
to a premature conclusion.
Water’s cold austerity
gives way to wine by the bucketful;
joy flows abundant and free,
and the party continues.
The attendant throng is suitably amazed;
the man’s mother, who provoked the action,
is merely impressed.

In the hands of her son
the wedding feast is made into
the metaphor par excellence:
life that is fruitful and expectant,
filled with hope, joy,
and laden with possibility.

 

© Ken Rookes 2016

Song of Songs Haiku

Arise my fair one:
the lover’s invitation
to intimacy.

The beloved comes,
eager with youth’s desire,
leaping over hills.

Winter’s fear has passed
giving way to hope and life;
and with much singing.

The fruiting fig trees
join with the fragrant blossoms,
in love’s dance-song call.

Spring’s fecundity
of flowers and turtledoves;
Eros meets Yahweh.

Come away with me
and we shall be joined as one;
Arise my fair one.

 

© Ken Rookes 2015

I am the bread of life

We take these words
and fashion them into a ritual.
A ritual meal of great beauty,
layered and filled with meaning
and mystery; which is almost certainly
what the writer had in mind.
Flesh is made bread.

The wheat is ground,
mixed, kneaded,
and baked in an oven. It emerges,
crusty and smelling of friendship.
So we tear the loaves in two,
break off pieces,
and share them.

And somehow, in this bread
and in the wine that accompanies it,
we take into the essence of our selves
the words the Teacher spoke,
the compassion, grace, and love he enacted.
Along with the power of his giving,
his sacrifice.

And somehow,
in this invitation to gather
at his table,
we are also invited to see with his eyes
and to behold the kingdom;
a world that may yet be transformed
by justice, hope and peace.

Somehow.
And in these fragments,
small, humble, broken,
we receive this man;
not to mention
his outrage
and his tears.
© Ken Rookes 2015

Other poems relating to this theme can be found Here. And also Here in a poem of the same name.

A woman and a girl

For the woman,
twelve years of suffering,
the physical distress of her bleeding
matched only by its consequent social exclusion.
(She is ritually unclean, and will remain so
while ever her haemorrhage goes unchecked).
For the girl, according to the fears of her father,
twelve years of living are about to be concluded,
just when her life should be beginning.

Except that the girl doesn’t die;
the woman, too, is healed by the teacher.
Connected only by a narrative
and the same span of years,
each is restored, in her own way,
to life, family and community.
This, according to gospel writer, Mark,
is what Jesus, the one sent from above,
does.

© Ken Rookes 2015

Another  poem on this story can be found here. And also here.

Seeds are cast

Seeds are cast
to lie among earth’s dust,
tiny parcels of potential;
waiting for the clouds to gather.
Tears of anguish and compassion
to water the earth.

Suitably awoken,
some seeds sprout,
putting forth leaves of promise.
Buds form
and open into flowers. Behold:
beauty, colour and wonder

to welcome insects of pollination;
the wind too.
Fruits are set,
bringing fertile anticipation,
and swelling to the generous ripeness
of maturity.

Then comes the harvest
and the rejoicing.
And with all this abundance,
fulfilment, kingdom,
fruitfulness, uncertainty
and hope.

© Ken Rookes 2015.

He withdrew from them

 

Metaphor or historic reality,
it’s up to you. The ascension
serves its purpose.
Luke locates it at Bethany;
close to Jerusalem,
but away from the prying eyes
of the big city; it’s almost a secret.
He ties it to the promise of the spirit;
the Pentecost event,
also much celebrated.
Thus Jesus gives his friends their final instructions
and withdraws.
They are now on their own.
Except for the spirit thing,
and the knowledge that they have each other.
They are to speak of the things he did and said
and to be witnesses to love;
its sacrifices and its generosity.
Now we will see
how well they listened and watched,
how deeply they loved him,
and how truly they worship.

© Ken Rookes 2015

Marriage Haiku

Turning the pages

of a new journal; writing

stories together.

 

 

Ken Rookes 2015

Do this thing

At the centre of the story
is love.
Nothing else.
A commandment,
said to be new.
Do this thing.
Right there at its core;
always has been, will be.
There, from its beginning,
and when it comes to its brutal end.
Which, at this point in the story, is not far off;
but perhaps it’s not really the end.
This love finds its greatest expression,
we are told, in sacrifice;
in spending oneself for others,
for those embraced as friends.

Love the same way the master does;
a rule for disciples
and all who come after.
Be courageous; do this thing,
and turn it into the fruit that endures.

© Ken Rookes 2015

While it was still dark

While it was still dark
the smallest something began.

The match flares;
its flame might catch,
or it could sputter out, unfulfilled.

In the shadows ahead of the rising sun
a woman follows a path through the trees;
hope has abandoned her.

It had been her painful duty
to watch the man die;
she knows that the darkness is thick and heavy.

Alone she comes,
with only the soft glow of love
to guide her feet to his tomb.

Hers will be a final act of devotion,
a sacred ministration to one she worshipped,
even though he cannot know it.

As she comes near to the place.
the beginnings of the dawn intrude,
to wash the garden with their dull light.

The shadows grow weak and diminish,
and the day begins to be reborn.

 

© Ken Rookes 2015

Tearing

On the day when Jesus
strolled down to the Jordan
to meet with John and to be baptised,
the heavens, it is said, were torn apart.
They’ve been tearing apart ever since,
not just with Jesus,
who was outrageous enough;
some of those who came after him
have ripped things up a bit, too.
They broke laws, defied the powers
and governments, and challenged
the fearful and loveless status quo.

Here are some of the outcomes;
divine fragments,
torn from the heavenly interface
like squares from yesterday’s newspaper
and layered with earth’s paste
as they are fashioned into something new
and surprising.
A papier-mâche new creation, disturbing,
defiant, and more than a little foolish;
it is flimsy and fragile,
a vulnerable reliquary
of sacred hope.
 

 

© Ken Rookes 2015