Thursday, 21 May 2020

A Sermon for Ascension Day

A Sermon for Ascension Day


Thursday, and I’m required to speak of heaven, of take-off,

First and final flight; my hand shakes, my pen breaks

Line of page, refuses ruler’s rule.


Does God break lines too?

Now that’s an image and an old one: God as poet –

First Transgressor, Bird who hovers over page’s


Unruly seas, endless white. That’s a bird I could love –

Greasy feathered, storm-bringer, O Petrel, come:

Land with filth and ink, stain your story on tree and linen.


Let me write of Word made bird-bone, feather

Made heaven-bound, made Heaven. Hollow me till

Word flies, till Ascension, till God, till unruled, broken lines.

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