He breathed on them

Haiku for agents of peace.

Peace was his greeting
that night, meeting with his friends,
the day he was raised.

The doors had been locked,
but somehow he was present,
standing among them.

They gasped, rejoicing.
Beyond all expectations
their master lived!

There’s much to be done.
Just as the Father sent me,
so I’m sending you.

He breathed upon them.
Receive the Holy Spirit,
God with you, always.

Mercy is the key;
show them. You are to forgive;
you must set them free.

This is why I came,
to bring freedom, grace and hope.
My peace be with you.

 

© Ken Rookes 2017

But how will I know?

My eyes, my mind and my heart,
I like to believe, are open.
But when the Spirit of truth comes,
how will I know?
Perhaps she has already come.

She will, I assume, speak to me of Jesus
and his teachings; telling of love
and generosity, of justice and defiance,
of courage, anger, compassion and peace.

I am emboldened, and challenged
to join with my sisters and brothers
and pray: Come, Holy Spirit!
But when she comes;
how will I know?

 

© Ken Rookes 2016

But you cannot bear them now

Spirit of Truth, Advocate:
you see all things,
know all things.
Reveal it,
show us; but not too much.
Open our eyes and let us see;
but, if you don’t mind,
keep hidden those things
that might cause anxiety
or shame.

You know what we can bear;
just a little for now.
A single LED rather than a floodlight.
There are scenes we would rather not view,
stories we would rather not hear.
Tales of suffering and cruelty
of which we prefer to remain ignorant.
Injustices, that, intruding into our pleasant reality,
might impel us into action
or compel us to change.

It’s not that we lack courage
to take on the many things,
but one at a time;
if that’s all right.
 

© Ken Rookes 2015

Breath

The essential otherness,

named by many as God,

having been credited

with the creative endeavour, generosity and love

out of which the planet is born and renewed,

once breathed life into the nostrils

of a figure sculpted from earth’s dust;

or so the ancient story tells us.

A man called Jesus,

sometimes designated child of God

and touched wildly by the spirit,

once re-enacted that mythical event;

at least according to another,

slightly less-ancient, narrative.

Coming unexpectedly

among a group of frightened and uncertain friends, 

he pursed his lips and blew gently

upon their puzzled faces

with his spirit-breath invitation:

to live generously,

to love with passion, and,

drawing upon their reserves

of courage, grace and vulnerability,

to address the planet’s plaintive plea

for justice, hope and peace.

 

Or to at least make a start.

 

 

© Ken Rookes 2014

 

Come

God’s Spirit tugs, sometimes,
at others she tears at my insides,
saying: Come.
Come from this place of weary comfort
and grey coldness,
where the living is by halves
and sweet sameness cloys;
where edges are dull,
and blunted living safe;
where contentment is exalted and worshipped
and adventure and uncertainty
are disdained and distrusted.
Come to where life is sharp
and uneasy, the aching is strange,
and nakedness honest.
Let surprise and unexpected
delight warm your depths.
I promise you
there will be friendship to match the pain,
joyful wonder to accompany fear’s uncertainty,
and much tear-soaked love.
Come,
let rushing wind
and Pentecost fire be your home.
 
© Ken Rookes