SCRATCHING MY SOUL (for the parents of Cookstown)



In difficult times, it is not about escaping from where we are as much as taking the time to take in all that is going on… to learn about ourselves in the waiting… This is heavily influenced by David Wagoner’s poem Lost, that a friend sent me in my recent convalescence…


Here, was once for Peter

Cowering disillusioned in an upper room

Where Mary muttered the impossible

And he ran to an empty tomb.


Here, was once for Paul

Thorns he couldn’t get rid of

Where the end of all the prayers he prayed

Was God’s grace to be enough.


Here, was once for Jesus

A bloody cross, all God forsaken

Where even the very sky grew black

As the interruption of mad love beckoned


Here… now… this… for me

I stop, take time and breathe

I gaze out at my surroundings

From my shelter of belief

Though my soul is bruised dark blue

I hear a holy call to embrace it

Gently, I hold on to my very self

Because no one is going to replace it.


In this uncertain terrain of tears

Gazing across these unfamiliar fears

I’ll wait ’til my deepest gladness reappears



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