THERE IS A DELICACY ABOUT A LIFE

 

THERE IS A DELICACY ABOUT A LIFE

There is a delicacy about a life
Grounded in love.
A strength of sweetness
That in its sunny passion
Adds up to more than the sum of its parts.

More than hope.
More than peace.
More than all the other lovely verities
Love holds close within it.

For it is a generosity of spirit
Upon which all love is founded,
Revealing itself in a precise and passionate
Understanding of helpless need.

Always ready to dance,
Always ready to share in joy,
Always and forever reaching out a hand,
Holding on as long as needed.
                                    © Gwen Grant

ROOM FOR ONE MORE

Here is another ‘Miss McPherson’ poem – a Christmas poem –
again written for Southwell Minster’s magazine.  This isn’t
Harry’s poem, though.  It’s Chad’s with Sharnia being helpful!

ROOM FOR ONE MORE                                            

‘If all of the world saw the Christmas sky filling
With angels whose wings were silver and shimmering,
Who sang with their voices chiming and ringing,
Until all life on earth heard every last word
Of Jesus new-born,
Think how happy they’d be,’ Chad said, with a smile,
‘But the happiest of all would be the fierce crocodile.’ 

‘Stop right there, Chad,’ Miss McPherson fizzed,
‘That Nativity stable is staying just as it is,
With sweet baby Jesus asleep in His crib;
Mary and Joseph; the shepherds knelt down,
Three Kings all a’twinkle, wearing their crowns.
With a cow and a donkey; lambs sweet as the child,
And nowhere, Chad, nowhere, a fierce crocodile.’

‘Well, that’s not fair!  Why not give him a trial?’
Chad cried, holding up his toy crocodile.
‘Because,’ Sharnia frowned, ‘a crocodile eats
Ears, toes and fingers like packets of sweets.’

Chad was cool.  ‘I agree.  But Jesus,’ he said,
‘Came not just to love the sweet and the kind,
Or wise Kings a’twinkle with sparkling minds.
He came to love everyone, even those we don’t like,
The mean and the vile,
With their cruel sharp teeth and their sharp cruel smile.
That’s how I know He’ll love my crocodile.’

Miss McPherson said, ‘Chad, that is very true.
Jesus loves lambs but He loves crocodiles, too.
And as I look at the Stable floor,
I see quite clearly there is room for one more.’
And Miss  McPherson smiled,
‘There’s plenty of room for a crocodile.’      

                                                              ©Gwen Grant

 

 

 

LOVE SONG

untitled

I often think of you as I lie at rest,
Light from the street lamp
Burnishing these dark walls.
How I have loved you so with every breath,
There cannot be many words of love unsaid,
But what there are, I say them to you now.

Once I saw your face
At a place I hadn’t thought you’d be,
And in that moment
Knew the loveliness of what you are
Remains unchanged.
Then you smiled at me.

I often think of you as I lie at rest,
Or when I up and through that door walk out,
Your open hand forever held in mine.
There cannot be many words of love unsaid,
For I have loved you with every breath,
But what there are, I say them to you now.

                                         © Gwen Grant

ALL TOGETHER, NOW!

Thinking about all the places we’ve lived over the
years, I also remembered, given the circumstances,
just how easy it was to find yourself without a home.
The poet, Robert Frost, said that home was where they
had to take you in, words that stayed with me.

ALL TOGETHER, NOW!

If only I could sing that song again,
The old girl said to her reflection.
You know, the one about having
A safe place to live in.
Though, obviously, that’s not happening

Still, opening her mouth,
She tried a few notes.
Doh and Ray, anyway.
Admittedly, with a bit of a quaver,
Until, settling in,
She sang about home.

Home!

That place where the poet said
They had to take you in.
‘Not in my experience,’ the old girl sighed,
Then fell silent, considering.
At last, pushing aside
All her quavering and quivering,
Went on with her gravelly old singing,
Really getting into her stride.

Fearlessly singing the Blues on her lonesome,
Until, hustling up to the chorus,
She flung her arms wide.
‘All together, now!’ she cried,
And a thousand, thousand voices sang
‘If only we had a home to be home in.’
© Gwen Grant

I MISSED YOU WHEN YOU WERE GONE

 

You return
And the earth turns a little longer.
The lost
Finding one another on busy
City streets,
Or waiting in quiet, hidden gardens.

You return
Late as the sun for the dawn.
Stinging rays
Swivel blue bent to my windows,
Searching them
For the silent lips of a sleeping woman.

You return
And kiss my mouth and I awake
From this,
The first dying. Sweet and warm,
Into you
I come, and pull the air close round us.

I missed you when you were gone.

© Gwen Grant

BRIGHT LADY TALL IN QUILTED SUN

 

I wrote this poem years ago, when I was a young woman
myself. 

   BRIGHT LADY TALL IN QUILTED SUN

 Bright lady tall in quilted sun,
Cotton hair caught
In a shadow net of dancing leaves.
Waiting,
In silence,
Rose lips pressed petal to petal,
Her firm gaze fixing flowers
Upon the grass.

Dandelion rings on long thin fingers,
The wormy white stems bitten free
By snippety teeth.

She never smiles unless she wants to.
Young and tough,
There she stands,
Her pretty dandelion feet
Kicking shadows from her path.
Her cotton hair
Spinning a net,
Quilting the morning sun. 

                             © GWEN GRANT