my other breathes
lying next to me
the little one breathes
after her lullaby
the people breathe
before they sing
Jesus breathes on us
so we may truly be
Ever since I read about the rivalry of Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost in the Reader’s Digest in pre-TV India I was fascinated by formula 1. I was a fan of Schumacher from 1993 when he came second in the German grand prix and I’ve managed to keep track of the world championships since.
The recent events have made the whole soap opera a bit sour but being the cynical person that I am I wasn’t entirely surprised. Continue reading “Formula 1”
This is what the good Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams said in a very interesting programme which marked the first anniversary of the collapse of the Lehmann brothers. He said some very good things actually using unpopular terms like Continue reading “‘…dangerous taste for unreality’”
I thought Kim Clijsters winning the US Open was a real sign of hope. A lot of mothers end up with lower end jobs just on account of being mothers. They either lose their jobs on becoming pregnant or lose positions within companies and in some cases woman aren’t hired because they might become pregnant. Worst of all…
I thought Kim Clijsters winning the US Open was a real sign of hope. A lot of mothers end up with lower end jobs just on account of being mothers. They either lose their jobs on becoming pregnant or lose positions within companies and in some cases women aren’t hired because they might become pregnant. Worst of all if you’re a mother there seems to be Continue reading “A sign of hope”
A long time ago
we learnt great things
over the fire of discussion
we shared great things
Sent back to our villages
we tried to share the incredible beauty
I was shushed.
She was shut up.
The cart needs to be held up
or the weak will fall over
Beauty is hard
for the Beholders’ change
The bitterest sadness
has been that the village elders
saw the beauty too
in all it’s scariness
and we can’t share this
for we are the irrelevants
whose wheels won’t hit the road
because we want everyone to fly
‘So can I see him?’
‘Well yes’, it said.
She swallowed still unsure of Malakan ettiquette if they had such a thing.
‘Is he all right?’
If light could be heard that was it’s voice.
‘No. In fact he succumbed.’
The throat tightened but hope was unbearable. ‘But here everything’s all right isn’t it? I mean that’s the whole point?’
‘Beloved…,’ the voice uttered. ‘You want to see your loved one. You can. But he is not a person. He is not he. In the final act of pestilence he was wiped out. He couldn’t accept love.’
The creature stopped and seemed to look down. Were those red sparks tears?
‘But why do I feel hope… for Alex?’
‘You love. And that has allowed us to save a husk. But merely a husk. It has no memory. And will never receive it back. The virus, in it’s death killed him.’
‘Yes… I know that. But maybe my memories can help.’
‘Oh yes’ the Malakan sparkled.
‘But’, he said in deepening blue ‘everyone’s memory is their own. Even if all the people Alex knew could share their memories his own will never come back. But…your sharing can start his new life. It will be an entirely new life. He will look a bit like Alex. Sound a bit like him. Maybe even do some of the things like Alex. But he’ll never be the Alex that you once knew. Then again…’ It paused.
The Malakan held her in his arc of amber.
I asked the madman,
‘Can I see Jesus?’
‘No!’, he laughed
and ran away
arms stretched wide
and the sun shone through his hands.