September 11th, 2004

Nescafe rabbit

In memoriam..

This dates back just about two years.  It's still one of the favourite things I've ever written.

He calls, 
  in a way no man expected.
He calls, whispering
       in the unanticipated silence.
     we hear we
do not understand, 
         or know.

My God our God why     do I know that we   are not forsaken? We are your people,       as the lilies and the wild     roses, sparrows in your eyes.   Sacred.           Un-alone.

    And the hopeless vista of your love.

Our lives are shaken,     our building undone.         We are children, no longer laughing   in our childish,           interrupted play. And we have learned at last       to weep.

He calls,   in a voice like thunder         in falling concrete and ruined walls.     He calls.       NsB 14-09-2001           "he calls"

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