These Arms

A poem for Christmas, or maybe Easter...

At first glance,
Those arms outstretched
Seem to be pushing away.
Arms that distance,
Arms that reject
Arms that aren’t open to me.
And yet,
When I look more,
These arms restore.
These arms draw close.
These arms have held and been held.
These arms, once small, clung straw
and held a mother’s breast.
These arms, made flesh,
Which once wove worlds together,
Are now outstretched
A cruciform embrace eternally
Invading our continuum
Cascading grace into every place where darkness threatens.
These arms hold me interminably
In the eternal grip of a loving God
Who came to us and holds us close.

I've started to play with some digital image/drawing stuff. All early doors in terms of developing technique and such like. But promising I hope. More to come in due course!

Trying to capture the point of the Sanctuary venue at New Wine - turning aside from the road to meet with God

The fire is meant to be about righteousness and trusting the Holiness of God

Psalm 119's precepts always make me think of corridors and colonnades. That's probably just me...

This poem is a reflects on what it is I love about poetry and other art

As the poet's pen dances across the page
she weaves a web which captures worlds,
ensnares ephemeral moments
which, without her craft,
are, all too soon, gone.

She traps the transcendent,
crystalises memories
of fragile, forgotten yesteryears;
the wonder and the warmth,
places and faces which shape the self.

Her art,
like street lamps shining bright
illuminates the road we each have travelled.
Those shared paths of sadness and joy.
Rambling roads which widen and narrow
but all
eventually
lead
home.