Holy Week Poems

During Holy Week I have been collaborating with my good friend Emily who is in training to be a priest. She has written a poem for every day of Holy Week and asked me to accompany it with a photo. We enjoyed our quarantine collaboration project and here are the results in full.  I hope you enjoy, I think Emily's poems are really moving and the perfect reflections of Easter during lockdown. A reading of each poem can also be found on youtube. 

Palm Sunday
 

The Unmade Bed

The absent, the loss from this unmade bed

A mirror-like soul threw the hot blanket back 

The shape of a naked skull here in the pillow
Soft feathers that smell of human-like sweat

The stains of bodies and twisted dreams 

White sheets that one day become a shroud
Pale fluid from acts of love or lost life 

Fevered dreams that claw in the belly of time.

The mattress that never can yield to the weight  

For all of the tossing and tide of the night
The tepid, rejected limbs chills in morn

The moment of lust, that leaves hollow a breath

The dog that would sleep at the end, if allowed
The morning that only comes, after collapse. 

Rising like ghost Lazarus, barely alive
And yet, I am known even in this half state

Tuck me in warm, fill bottle and cup

In your soft lullaby I sleep calm like that dog,

The unmade, is made, only in Christ

I am such a bed until sleep becomes death.    

Death of a Tree 

In root and core, the rot runs deep
In peeling bark, in fruitless bud, in brown mould leaf
What form could take this sin and weep
A tree, a tree a blameless thing 

In blacken branch, it’s cursed word
A touch that steals all youthful gifts
Damned by all sweetness known in man
In human form, in Genesis. 

Low, low the branches bow
The weight of these rejected hopes
Spring forth from death those gleaming jewels
In sinless dance, in seasons blessed. 

Holy Tuesday

Prayer

To prayer we drift in sleep, foam, feathers, snow. 

A divine blanket of air grows fat about us. 

And there we begin to sweat, dragged on tides to skies of pricked gold. 

A warm sunshine, blinding eyes and caressing cheeks. 

Then like a ripe egg, we crack open and everything we are flows …

in a swollen river of communion, breaking its banks. 

In drowning, we learn to swim in our calling. 

Holy Wednesday

Tools 

A hammer to breakdown a door 

a lens to observe the world 

a chisel to carve across 

sand to wear down a wool 

Like wind, like rain, like sound 

an axe to cut out Deadwood 

oil to grease old wheels
a flask of hot tea for the bad days 

a pair of comfortable shoes 

some oil, some bread, some wine 

glue to fix broken hearts 

ink to tattoo his name on their skin 

a whistle to play a good tune 

scales to weigh out my time
love, faith and limitless hope 

Maundy Thursday

The Flex

Combs of wire, tearing and dragging the flex

That breaking sound is all about your parting

Long years of love, forgotten in rage

Exhaustion and somewhere between, a child

One pulling apart, eased by thick lanolin

The other clinging on for dear life 

As oiled fibres slip though fingers 

There is somewhere between, a child

But what is softer and stronger than the flex? 

The child forgotten, the lamb betrayed?

Hold fast dear friends, these times will pass

Remember the child. Remember the lamb

Carding out the thorns, smoothing the flex

Making it good, to be weaved again

Weaving now, a newness in love

He will give you his fleece, if you ask  

Good Friday 

In Deep Wounds

In deep wounds lies our Lord. 

In stardust, in trees, in the gutter. 

In the words, ‘it is good to be here.’

In the little death of dogs, in the mighty death of Mother. 

In the baby that did not breath, 

in the birthday cake and the cold shoulder. 

In deep wounds like salt and dirt lies his promise. 

He will come, looked for like Christmas snow

… forgotten like old razor blades. 

Ever glorious and shouting out a good tune. 

He will come without warning withered and old … shiny and new. 

In deep wounds, I will see him reflected in the bowl of a spoon, 

a cut lip, a lost love. 

In days, in prayer, in pus and earth,

in the empty cot, in the stone cold tomb.

In rot. 

In deep wounds like sleep, hot and naked, 

a retreat. Forgotten, 

unlooked for, forgiven, complete. 

In dreams of death, in a light footed dance, in breath and water. 

A blood stained sheet. 

In a splinter or a long hard week. 

In deep wounds he will come and seek us out. 

In deep wounds he will wait for our return

In deep wounds like balm, like cooling ice

lies our Lord … The Christ. 

Saturday Vigil

Mary’s Lament

Where is my heart? 

Lost, lost

lost in a dark 

hidden and lost 

Forgotten in din
buried deep in the fog 

cracked in the stone

alone, alone

Where is my Lord? 

Silent and calm

Waiting in rain

in grass that is long 

found found 

found in my pain 

in cycles of loss 

lost lost 

my heart a blackbird,

wings beating hard 

where is my heart 

held like a lamb 

crucified, stabbed 

with each little death 

lost lost 

In this night of grief

tears in the tides 

where is my love 

lost from my sight 

Where is my heart?
the heart of the Christ 

held safe but not won
lost in this night 

Lost lost   

Easter Sunday

Silver Webs

In cracks between sliver webs, spy holes between dew and light. 

His whole looks back, in unblinking eyes, soft, soft, endless sight.

Christ Jesus King, in the gaps not the sparkled thread.

In the broken wings of dried flies caught, drunk and dead.  

Held in his gaze, eyes fixed and riveted mine

As a fly in the web, I am mesmerized by a journey divine

Gently he bundles me in sliver twine, swaddled as a babe

And bleeds me of all my sins, as he once bravely bled

Suspended I sleep, cradled in hands and wrists that weep

Awaiting my resurrection, to rise again to his need

In faith of his people, to carry like stones their pain 

I bleed out, as fly to spider, in a raging desire to live again.  

Easter Monday

Formation 

Does it start in the marrow? In the bones, in cells? 

In grey matter or in the gut? 

Are we blocks of stone, carved by Christ?

Or are we thrown, slippery as a newborn on a wheel? 

It is when we begin to delight in the little. 

The specks, the light in leaves, the piping hot cup of tea

It is when we fall in love with the world

Slowly sinking into joy and pain, like comfortable sleep 

In a happy day, when gratitude becomes a tear

When the soft scent of rose and wood smoke is in the air 

We are formed in love, turned inside out by it

We know the suffering of withdrawal, when we return

Taking only a tiny speck of the gold with us. 

And the knowledge that at any moment we can turn back. 

For he waits for us, eternally. 

Lockdown Quarantine and Long Term Illness

This is going to surprise you (unless you are a self-isolating ninja already) but certain aspects of this global pandemic lockdown quarantine is actually making the everyday better for some of us. Life has become so full again I've ended up writing a blog post after about three months!

Aside from moments of complete meltdown and panic, I'm bouncing from  the deepest depths to the highest highs on an almost hourly basis. I was handling it relatively well until I needed to visit the hospital last week for a blood test.  Whether it was the fact that I hadn't left my property for about a month, or the fact that I had to enter a high risk situation, but the trip to pathology brought back all the feelings I had when first told I had stage three breast cancer.

Receiving a diagnosis of a life threatening illness is kinda similar to the situation you are all finding yourself in now. Firstly there's the shock that this is actually happening, you are unprepared, this wasn't your story, you had a plan which now you can't follow - albeit for a short time or forever. Then there is the reality that you have to stop work.  Ok maybe there will be help from the Social Services - ha good luck with that, because maybe there won't. Shortly after you find out that your treatment will involve long periods of feeling unwell and you are likely to not be able to leave the house, also, because you have a compromised immune system you had better not go anywhere public or let anyone visit you if they have a cold or cough or anything slightly unhealthy. So - how long will this go on for, not being able to work, staying at home all the time, not seeing anyone.  Well they can't actually tell you that, it depends on many factors. 

See where I am going here. Shock and panic all ensue and it takes a long while for your mind to come to terms with 'this is the shit hitting the fan' for real. After many many months, or even years of receiving treatment you may find yourself in the lucky situation of being able to beat the illness, although the chances of you ever being completely back to normal are reduced even if the scars are only mental.

Eventually the panic dissipates, (well it has to really or you would kill yourself with shock), but of course there will always be triggers that bring back the reality and take you back to that early stage of anxiety at the confrontation of your own mortality. 
This pandemic will probably have done that to many people with long term illness even though they are well skilled by now at being on their own in the house and keeping the anxiety at bay.  Once that shit has hit the fan you are heightened to the fact that now anything can happen, that it's not always going to be happening to someone else.  

So you ask, why did I say that some aspects of life are now better. I'm sure I'm not alone in thinking that it would have been great to get this much support when you found out you had a life threatening illness. We sat at home alone while everyone else was at work, too busy, on holiday, going to parties, going for days out, going to restaurants and on and on. We sat there staring at social media wondering if anyone had a bit of time to message or read our posts, or put something entertaining up online. 

And now there's never been so much to occupy us, it's the busiest and most entertained I've been in years. Theres my daily yoga sessions with Adrienne, my weekly creative writing group via Zoom with Clare, my collaboration project with Emily for Holy Week and hourly podcasts and videos from celebrities like Miranda Hart and Tom Allen. I've been sung to by so many celebrities and everyone, I mean everyone is on social media 24/7. I've got photos to take for one project, seeds to plant for a challenge and then theres the home cooking and DIY which I now get a hand with because husband is stuck here with me. By now us 'long termers' have binged watch all the tv shows, read all the books, learnt the new craft, knitted ten jumpers, and I'm not even exaggerating, so we finally have some bloody company, even if it's via Zoom or House Party. 

Because I am in a high risk 'vulnerable' category I now get priority with my shopping. Nowadays everyone is careful about spreading their germs, good God they are even wearing masks now and gloves, oh I dreamt of that when I had no white cells - the day when other people would take care not to give me their germs. I remember on so many occasions - once complaining to the woman serving me in the bakery that she had a bad cold and maybe she shouldn't be serving food. That went down like a lead balloon. After one visit for a hospital test I ended up with shingles, I suspect because a person with a cold wasn't wearing a mask or washing their hands or something of that ilk.

Things are going to change a lot after all this. In so many ways it's not possible to comprehend. I am truly gutted for all of you who have had your dreams dashed, the ones you've worked years for because I know how it feels. But one thing I do hope is that now everyone has experienced the isolation and the need for caution, that perhaps there will be more awareness for what it is like to have a long term health condition, because, dear people, there are some who do this all the time. Your 'new normal' is just 'normal' for thousands who have illness, disability, no support network or finance. 

If anything good comes out of this I hope that true empathy will now be experienced by a large number of people. I pray that the sense of community and support for fellow humans will continue. I pray that the inequality of wages between non essential jobs and those that have kept us alive (whether it's nurses, cleaners, delivery drivers, supermarket workers) will be re-evaluated and there will be a new found respect for anyone who put themselves at risk to stack the shelves, drive the bus, shop for a friend.