Abide in me

 

Do I want to live forever?
It’s not a priority.
My mind struggles with notions of heaven;
of existing somehow, conscious and individual,
beyond one’s allotted days
in this corporeal world.
Across earth’s stones and tracks I journey,
love, rejoice,
wonder and rage.
I breathe its red dust and taste its sorrow;
here I belong
and yet am never quite at home.

Perhaps I never shall be.
Striving, longing and hoping
I seek the company
of those who also yearn
and weep and groan.
My comrades are my abode,
my sisters and brothers are my home,
Perhaps this is what the gospel writer meant
when he spoke of abiding in Jesus,
earth-dweller, brother of us all,
and true child of heaven.
(Whatever that means).

 

© Ken Rookes 2015

Advertisements

Hometowns are for leaving

Hometowns are for leaving,
with occasional returns
to visit family
and to catch up with friends.
On such occasions you will exchange warm greetings,
enquire after those absent
and share your stories.
You will try,
but you will find it hard to understand each other’s journeys.
How can you?
Too much has happened,
good and bad;
so many unexpected twists in the road.
All the surprises, disappointments,
challenges, triumphs and embarrassments;
you, and they, are no longer the same.

Nor was Jesus.
When he returned to his hometown
they would not receive him.
They could not understand
and they would not listen to his words.

 

 

© Ken Rookes 2015

Ready to go

Jesus often walked
the western shore of Lake Galilee
in the vicinity of Capernaum;
reflecting, praying, listening.
Perhaps he enjoyed the lapping of the waves,
the cool of the water on dusty feet,
the sounds, the beauty,
and the relative stillness
of the natural world.

He would have observed industry, too;
men with boats and nets,
and women, unnamed and forgotten,
helping to sort the fish
and effect repairs.

When Jesus made his lakeside invitation
to the brothers, Andrew and Simon,
James and John, suggesting
that soon they would be fishing for people;
was he meeting them for the first time?
Mark’s story does not say so;
but it is sometimes read that way.
More likely it was the culmination
of multiple encounters, conversations,
questions, debates, laughter and speculations;
so that when Jesus was ready to go,
so were these friends.

© Ken Rookes 2015

From that time on.

That day,
when he called us together
and gave us the talk,
changed everything;
our lives included.
No going back to the easy excitement
of those earlier times, halcyons,
when the message was new,
along with the company.

We move on.
The journey becomes more determined,
the actions more considered;
the serious stuff has begun.
It was never a light thing,
but now we talk openly
of the struggles,
the suffering,
the dying.

This chosen road passes
from light to darkness,
and back to light again.
It takes us into the shadowed places,
the dim corners of a world
that waits yearningly for a coming;
for those who might bear even a glimmer,
the smallest spark
of defiant hope.

From that time on
we began to be disciples.

© Ken Rookes 2014

He came

He came
stepping from wave to wave
defying Archimedes,
and the laws of gravity,
at least according to the story.
This, of course, is a sticking point
for many in our sceptical scientific age,
including me.

“Come,” says the journeying man.
“Come to me,
come with me.
Together we shall travel
to the shadowed places;
where despair is deep, fears imprison,
and worries and concerns threaten to overwhelm.
We shall whisper hope,
touch with love and life,
and bring to birth the peace
for which our weeping planet yearns.
And should the waves rise to engulf us,
and should the primeval chaos
reassert itself to swallow us up,
then we shall sink together;
embracing death
and finding fulfilment.”

© Ken Rookes 2014

Once, while wandering

Once, when wandering
uncertain and without a destination,
an unexpected wind-spirit thing
claimed my attention
with a whisper; a voice
that spoke of the fulfilment of divine love
but mostly spoke of home.
I followed; listening,
and immersing myself
in the stories of one who found himself
truly mortal;
a fellow traveller and child of dust,
like the rest of us.
My journey began anew,
with more meanderings,
an enduring share in uncertainty,
and a goal that continues to shine;
distant but defiant.
In my sometimes hesitant following
I have learned to be at peace
with my need for grace.
There are stories,
more murmurings from the travelling man,
that speak of searching and of being found;
and of the surprising wind-spirit thing.
The stories give me courage
to wander, to explore and to be free;
trusting that even when I feel myself lost,
I will be found.
 
© Ken Rookes 2013