Tag Archives: heaven

The Gate

The Gate

An angel walks a long road
with no sign post or end.
He never is exhausted
and never could pretend.

He helps to keep in motion
one circle of the wheel.
He mends the broken pattern,
his mission is to heal.

A brown gate in a low wall,
he pointed out to me.
Only I can open it,
I do not need a key.

The gate opens on a path,
somehow I sensed, I knew.
It will lead me to my home,
the place to which I grew.

Advertisements

Eastern Heaven

Eastern Heaven

Come and count your woes.
Do they equal the number of your fingers and toes?
Are they less or more?
Or are you blessed to have none at all?
You remember it yet, the green garden was wet,
you felt the sudden splat on your scalp of a cold rain drop
that slid off the leaf of ivy and rose.

Now count your blessings.
May they amount to many.
Maybe only the grumpy
say that they have not got any.
A coin dropped in a wishing well
could be your last penny.
It may comfort you,
even though you know with the world as it is
your wish will not come true.

The eagle sits on the peak of the pinnacle,
surveys the lands below,
can see a hare prick its ears on the moor,
salmon leap the steps of a waterfall,
maybe even hears the fern and the yellow gorse grow.
Meanwhile, the snake and the lizard
crawl up the sides of the pit
from its unseen black basin.
If you think this a riddle,
work it out, if you have the wit.

The air of Armenia smells of water and stone.
If you are there you will remember
your first taste of a fresh pomegranate
plucked from a local garden tree,
its juice so good it cannot be described.
I think they must chew and drink them
in eastern heaven.
Walk the aisles of an English supermarket,
and you will not find them,
only those imported from places like Syria.
So you don’t have to ask why they taste rather dry.
Close your eyes, count the holy number seven.
Taste a freshly plucked pomegranate,
you are in eastern heaven.

New Lights

New Lights

One was ruby, one was shining sapphire.
All the clouds cleansed in golden fire.
I was alone, late evening, on the shore.
I held my breath, counted up to seven.
Saw new lights coming down from heaven.
Tides came in, tides came in a door,
tides came in through a jewel door.

Mary told her mother on the sand:
“I’m spinning round, please hold my hand.
Can you and I walk forever on the shore?
Please hold your breath and count up to seven,
see new lights coming down from heaven.
Can this be, this be forever more?
Can we always walk on the shore?

“Mother, mother,
they are brighter than the pennies in your purse.”
Mary’s mother said:
“Things may now grow better, instead of worse.
And yes, we will always walk here, you and I.
Always beneath this windy sea shore sky.
But what are these lights,
these new lights in our eyes,
new lights speeding through the skies,
new lights that touch us with surprise,
new lights, new lights in our eyes?”
“Mother, mother,
they are brighter than the pennies in your purse.”

One was falling, one was turning a wheel.
I was learning strange things still real.
One bronze cone shooting from a scarlet core.
I had to smile and count up to seven.
More new lights coming down from heaven.
Waves flowed in, waves flowed in a door,
waves flowed in to flood a pebble shore.

“Mother, mother,
they are brighter than the pennies in your purse.”
Mary’s mother said:
“Things may now grow better, not ever worse.”