Sunday, 3 February 2013

Snowdrops / Amen


After Imbolc, as spring awakens,
under inches of soil,
they are waiting to roar,
anticipitating the moment,
to thrust out, in vast spread.
Amorous sleepers,
that wake our senses,
year after year,
white heads,
that hang around in corners.
Temporary residents,
side by side,
go back to earth,
and hibernate.
Leave without struggle,
wait paitiently to waken,
and bloom again,
rise like hope,
pushed again,
from down below.


Vulnerable as the birds that fly above,
their are some who are not among us,
who have forsaken music,
follow pains footprints in the dust,
alpha and omegas pulse.
The articulate,
who seek some learning,
lost in critical faith,
because of trust in ancient
books of judgement.
Gain strength,
in you answering back,
clinging in still ferocity,
to the clasp of heaven's touch.
They used to touch the earth,
feel its love, share humanity's depths,
now their rivulets run cold,
no riots of words, unless
it ends with amen,
in love with sadnesses rush.
Let the people sing.