a challenging poem....

I (Tim) have been writing poems for a year or so now which I have found helpful as I try to process things that I've seen or been part of. The following poem has been a 'work in progress' for a month or more now and was birthed out of a situation we found ourselves in whilst in Madagascar.

It has taken me a while to have the 'courage' to post this on the blog as I know that it could be received in many different ways by many different people, however it was during the church service yesterday that I felt that I couldn't hold this back. 

The 'worship band' played a song which I'd heard about before but I'd never been in a 'service' when it had been played, so as I scanned through the words (not wanting to sing anything that I didn't truly believe) I was taken aback by the chorus which went something like 'I'll go anywhere Lord, I'll do anything Lord', I just couldn't sing that.

Throughout my life I've worked in the townships around Cape Town in South Africa, stayed with families in the rural Xhosa homelands in the Eastern Cape, visited HIV centers in Uganda, spent time sharing with inmates in a prison in Toamasina in Madagascar, as well as living in a remote village with the threat of malaria carrying mosquitoes, I've even taken time to work with challenging children and the handicapped here in England.

All of which has driven me to tears and compelled me to 'think of others before myself' to 'see everyone as my brother or sister' however it is only by the grace of God that I have been able to do that as my 'inner man' is screaming 'I just want to get back to normality!', the normality of my family, the daily routine, the life I used to live.

I don't really want to go to those most challenging places in the world, well at least not live there with the problems so therefore I couldn't bring myself to sing those words. I could have sung, 'I'd like to think I could go anywhere Lord' but to sing with my eyes shut hold my hands in the air with conviction seemed so hypocritical. 

The following poem isn't meant to point any fingers, the finger pointing is at myself and my heart so here goes.

Thoughts of a street child

I'm that child, the one with no name,
Remember on Saturday when I came,
With the others like me to share a meal,
I like those days they make me feel real.

You told me a story about a man from above,
A God man who died to show me his love,
He lived long ago, spent time with the poor,
Showed them compassion and opened his door.

You told me he loves you and that's why you love me,
And if I love him then surely I'll see,
That the way we behave will change for the best,
By sharing our all so others feel blessed.

You sing about him with your eyes closed tight,
Ready to do battle to take up the fight,
To reach those outside and bring them in,
Into a Kingdom where there is no more sin.

But today you don't see me or give me food,
You seem rather angry and treat me so rude,
Did I do something wrong what's different today,
Turing your back your eyes look away.

Why is Monday so different and Wednesday too,
Your making me feel bad what did I do?,
Its like I'm invisible you don't even see,
I thought you told me that you'd been set free.

I'm really confused now that I'm not even seen,
Was the man with the food all just a dream,
You seem too busy as you get in your car,
Driving away like a Hollywood star.

You said you followed that man from on high,
'He's changed my heart' I heard you oft cry,
'If you change yours too then all will be fine',
And then something about 'him being divine'.

But maybe this God doesn't love me, I'm far too poor,
I watch how you treat me and I don't know the score,
You act one way when it suits your needs,
But my life never changes no matter how good your small deeds.

My stomach is empty most of the time,
And the food you provide makes me feel fine,
But by Thursday the pains they cripple and hurt,
And most of the time I live in the dirt.

So I'm thinking of stop coming to the Saturday lunch,
When I see others like you, your kind of bunch,
And I'll stop on the streets with the other like me,
Dreaming of the God man who died on a tree. 

Grey Days......but bright futures...(another poem)

we'd forgotten how grey the English autumn days can be, it seems like we haven't seen the sun in weeks and this can be rather depressing. it got me (Tim) thinking about living life in the sun, actually living life to the full and how so many people seem to be living their lives like a 'grey day' without fulfilling all the potential in their lives. 

often people have been held back, mainly by the culture they've grown up in or in social circumstances that have never allowed them to express themselves to the full or allowed them to move beyond the mainstream and those are hard walls to break down. I totally understand that and I also understand some of our life choices have led us to what are now difficult situations to break out of.

anways that said I do believe that there is a life worth living that is oft different to those that we are currently living out and this led me to write this short poem, which is sort of a work in progress but I hope it gives you some idea of where my thoughts have been going.

Poem ;- Grey People


'People living in colours of grey, when above the clouds its a beautiful day,

Lives that have never full begun, not having experienced the brightness of sun,

Seeing the world with monochrome vision, the colour all drained with no definition,

Wandering round with eyes half open, with youthful dreams unfulfilled and broken,

If only our teachers had seen more potential, with classes of children this is so essential,

What of the life of rainbow filled light? with the future ahead all shinning and bright?

It's time to step out with no hesitation, onto a path that leads beyond other peoples expectation,

Don't wait for someone to say its OK, dream big!, this is your life create your own gig today.

There are colours out there that look a bit bright, but don't worry I know they won't bite,

So don't miss out on your bright tomorrow, by following a path that only leads to more sorrow.

The End!

another poem.....'sit,see, engage, do?'

over the last few months I (Tim) have taken to writing some poetry, see previous posts beds beds and more beds and sea, I have also tried to still myself, daily, even hourly and become present in the here and now rather than in the rush from here to there as has been my norm for many years. whilst sitting alone in the beautiful garden on Sunday morning, others had left to attend church or enjoy a scooterthon, so I had some very private time to ponder, as I was sitting the following thoughts came into my mind and I have put them together to form this 'poem'.

Sit, see, engage, do?

We all sit under the same stars and sky, we all sit upon the same earth and breath in the same air in some place or another on this vast planet of ours. As we sit in contemplation have we ever taken the time to still ourselves so much that we feel the chill of realisation that the place where we sit right now could be in some place on earth with different sights and outcomes, away from the current safety and the silence we enjoy.

Sit in an airport or a station, humanity moves with one accord, busy minds with fixed agendas on onward journeys, some fleeing from awkward situations, others beginning an adventure towards a long time dream.

Sit in a dark jungle or forest where creatures great and insects small gather all around, eery sounds confuse the senses, fear grips of the untold dangers lurking in the shadows near, maybe far or maybe even in the mind.

Sit in a theme park or at a fun fair among the excitement, hearts pumping, stomachs churning, joy and exhilaration in the eyes, what will the next minute bring on the journey riding on tracks through the skies.

Sit in the desert on in the arctic, sand or snow blind the eye, the heat, the cold all around overwhelming the comfort of life, breath so pained with air so hot, so cold.

Sit in a city or a town people making their living, buy and sell then sell then buy, in the cafe conversation gathers around drinks that bring stress relief to those who gain and those that lose.

Sit by a river or near a stream the endless motion of water moving, willows and reeds surround with fowl and their tiny offspring fluffy with their new found down.

Sit in the middle of a township, homes of cardboard tin and nails, children playing in the gutter, stench so strong with little hope of food that day, third world problems of health and poverty maybe today the first world eyes will see?

Sit on a beach or at the ocean tan lined bodies all around, taking their annual vacation far from work and the daily grind, pleasures abet are fleeting, dream of next years trip do abide.

Sit in the classroom, teacher standing with wisdom and knowledge to exchange, students their heads astounded at all they're hearing, eager minds do engage, but too soon the bell rings, 'schools out', now what career to fulfill.

Sit in the stadium or in a crowd, the team, the band, set the stage alight with passion energy, lost in wonder of hero's performance bring forth the cheers receive the applause.

Sit in the operating theater where life ebbs away a way, doctors scurry with procedures designed to keep death at bay, death that has been always coming, none knowing the time or day, but unhindered it will come at its god given hour that can be certain.

Sit in the prison or in a cell, inmates count the hours, the days, how long before their freedom brings them home to loved ones dear, how long before they'll end up back inside?

Sit in a camp or on a boat overloaded with frightened families fleeing the war that has torn homes and lives apart, trying to find a place of safety, born in the wrong place at the wrong time......

Now we're back and find you sitting, overwhelmed by peace and silence, but this time with a sense that someones watching from on high, His eyes and hands upon you imploring you to engage, with all you've seen, the question He sets before you at what cost compassion and lives of grace?

there you go, I hope you enjoyed my penning.

beds, beds and more beds

we've just enjoyed a blessed week down in Bristol with our eldest son, his wife and our three wonderful little grandchildren and we will update a little more thoughts about that time later in the week however as a fill in we wanted to share a short post with a poem.

if you've been followed our blog you will be very aware that since leaving South Africa at the end of February we've been living out of our suitcase and therefore feel a little nomadic. With all our moving around we've just counted up we've slept in 17 different beds, we actually wish that we'd taken a photo off each one, however without those pictures we hope that this poem will capture the essence of the journey.

Beds.

Long beds, short beds, hard beds and soft beds, 

Beds with pillows and some with out,

Beds in rooms against the walls, beds in rooms as big as grand halls,

our latest bed in newquay, cornwall
which is VERY nice and soft!

Beds so narrow with little space, beds so big you leave little trace,

Beds blessed with views across the seas with windows wide open to catch the breeze,

Beds with mosquito nets to stop the bites, others with out nets so you lay awake with eyes shut tight,

Duvets and blankets on beds to warm, some have covers against the storm,

Bedside cabinets aside to place a light, to scare the ghosts of the night,

Beds so high you can hardly see the floor, others in rooms where you can reach the door,

Some beds so old that their all threadbare but with a place to lay your head you just don't care,

Noises outside that keep you awake, just shut up for heavensake,

You lay in bed counting the sheep, just trying to catch some beauty sleep.

........

we hope you enjoyed that and we'll update more about Bristol later in the week!

this week we have been mostly by the sea....

view from house by day

now you may have guessed but this blog is written and constructed by me, Tim, although i do consult Maz before pressing the 'publish' button in the top right hand corner of the 'compose page', my surmising that you would know it's me is via the use of the terms 'we' and 'us' instead of 'I' and 'me', if you've not noticed then thank you, if you have please bear with us as we seek to provide you with an update on our continuing journey.

this last week we have enjoyed some wonderful time in a beach house on the eastern side of Barbados at a long stretch of beach called 'Cattlewash', yes indeed in the old days the local farmers did bring their cattle down from the hills which surround this stunning area, known locally as Scotland, (and one can see why with the landscape mirroring our most northern part of the British Isle, however not so the weather, which has continued to be hot and sunny, or the lack of wee midges but we digress) and wash them in the waves which pound this side of the island. 

view from house by moonlight

Cattlewash and it's neighbour, Bathsheba, still has a feel of a tropic paradise with golden sands and coconut palms meeting the clear blue sea, however the currents and rip tides that abound make it very hard or even dangerous to swim let for a few pools which are created around the strange 'beefburger' shaped rocks which lye along the shoreline.

that said we have ventured out with our snorkels to explore and we've been amazed at the plethora of sea life which inhabit these micro worlds, brightly coloured small fish are captured for a few hours in the pools at low tide which makes great viewing through our plastic covered eyes. we've also enjoyed watching three or four sea turtles playing in the evening surf, it really has been a blessed place to stay.

our food experiences have also been enhanced when a local lady came to make us dinner from some produce we had acquired from a street vendor at the top of the hill here in Cattlewash, that night we ate fishcakes and pumpkin fritters, breadfruit mash with a simple salad and gravy, the food was both fresh, spicy and filling but still lacked the variety we experienced in Grenada. 

view from bedroom with maz exercising 

we have walked along the wide stretches of beach but I've (Tim) been suffering from a recurrence of an achilles tendon issue which has dogged me for a few years, so mostly we have been sitting and reading in the glorious sunshine with views across the beach to the sea, however I've been impressed with Maz' determination to continue with her daily exercises, she really is a-maz-ing.

the moon has been almost full all week and as it rises from the east we have enjoyed some beautiful seascapes under the moonlight sky's and with the lack of mosquitoes we have slept with our doors open to the stunning sound of the waves and awoken not a little wet from the mist which blows from their tops.

maz has been enjoying the easy writing style of Laura Hildebrand, the second book by that author of the trip, after we both read the compelling 'unbroken' whilst in Grenada, Maz has galloped her way through the older and perhaps more famous story of 'Seabiscuit', it's about a race horse if you didn't get the pun!

stunning rocks inspired a line in the poem

i however have finished a simple and not too in depth account of the years that led up to the revolution in Grenada, written by an ex-prisoner Joseph Ewart Layne called 'we move tonight, the making of the Grenada revolution', it was good to gain some recent historical background on the country we had just visited, however my mind has really been opened by the two other books that captured my reading time.

the first, 'the old ways: a journey on foot' by Robert Macfarlane has encouraged me to think about the paths that we have taken during our lives, both with God as our guide and others via family circumstance, work or holidays and during the reading of that book it led me to another which i seem to remember was a BBC radio 4  book of the week way back in the late 1990's, 'stargazing' is the story of a young lighthouse keeper and recounts peter hill's summer experiences in 1973 as he found temporary work on three lighthouses off the coast of Scotland.

evening walk turtle spotting

both have been interesting to read as we sit listening to the crashing waves that pound the shore and they have both inspired me to write a short poem, only my second ever, and using a rhythm described in stargazing, so for your pleasure i have produced it below, it may need some tweaking but here goes.

'Sea'

'the sea like fire is friend and foe,
it's wave crest tops white a glow,
roar unending both day and night,
and fine mist ashore it doth bestow,

dangers lurk in waters clear,
sailors and bathers do both fear,
with rips and currently that give a fright,
a wide berth yourselves should steer,

it's depths a plenty do abound,
the many creatures that can be found,
on open fire cooked for our delight,
their sumptuous flavours do astound, 

its power and might can be seen,
formations in rocks from where its been,
boulders torn as if from a fight,
and pebbles all smoothed and clean,

deep blue sea meets light blue sky,
that is if the day breaks dry,
should the day be dull the grey fills the sight,
in any sky white seagulls swoop and cry,

don't be tempted by sea or play with fire,
both help for man but can be dire,
treat with contempt they sure will bite,
you could end up on the funeral pyre!'

we hope you enjoyed it, we now move on to Bridgetown for a week before flying back to England next Thursday.