HomePoetry | AnchorTake me loving Godtake this broken body take this bewildered soul take these emotions ragged and raw And plant me in the soil of solitude (not the bare rock of the recluse) but here in the humus of your body where I can grow and faith flourish For I need the anchor of your church the weight of worship the drag of love Here may I be healing for body and soul The Seasons of SolitudeGod of eternal summerI thank you for winter’s solitude and the deep snowfall of silence Keep me rooted when the frantic wind bends my soul and threatens the simple flower of stillness Fertilize me with rich patience that I might be rich in contemplation and fruitful in the season of my harvest GeufronI have withdrawn from the world,it is not exactly a choice, in fact choice hardly comes into it at all except for this one act: to let the heart follow where the body leads into that curious wilderness of the self that illness constructs into that strange isolation of me that the healthfulness of others creates into that peculiar solitude that is pain, God and the human being It comes and I know that I am at home here. Perhaps my world summoned this wilderness wanting to isolate myself from the world's noise, have an excuse for loneliness: That sweetness of the self alone before God But now I am here and it is time to weave a basket or two Go fifteen rounds with the demons Find a father to guide my stumbling steps and learn the patience of the long silence. SolitudeInto the solitude I comeNo longer sore afraid. My head is lifted up on high I, in the Godhead made - A man in communion With all that lives, Aware and conscious every day Of all the great God gives. I lay aside my suffering: The secret pain and hurt And in the deepest, quietest place The love of God assert - With such as living strength Lives in this breathing man, Yet more, with stumbling faithfulness, my weakness now I lay Before the holy, holy One who made this life see day. SolitudeMeaning not alonemeaning not separated meaning not in isolation but apart withdrawn within oneself withdrawn within and God withdrawn within and others in a different, quiet away. Not one alone amongst the throng but intimately myself and connected deeper than flesh with God and a personal community of prayer. The CellThis is my cellHere I must breathe Air I cannot choose; Here I must live Days I cannot master. It is the struggle Uncomfortable Like the old monks But different More affluent, less harsh Less solitude, more noise But the Same Struggle With demons Inside and out And prayer, and work And the body lived for God of the Desert FathersThey have come, the old menAnd pitched a camp in my heart Finding a dry cave And a quiet place They have made a home for good Here in my heart They patiently plait ropes and weave baskets They are in no rush Their prayers demand no action Everything is done at the right time Long ago they learnt the virtues of waiting They have forgotten how to judge Even though their eyes see clearly: They wait and they pray And one day I will come home |