This ship that I’ve chosen to sail be proven swift and strong.

We’ve weathered much together, she and I.

So many days amidst the wind and storms we’ve travelled long

to cross this mighty ocean here beneath the endless sky.

 

Sometimes it seems that this will be how I spend all my days,

like being tossed at sea is all there is.

It’s hard to hold out faith that there be more...

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“The Bitter Cup” reflects the themes of enduring hardship and finding strength in the face of suffering, inspired by Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s “Surrounded by Good Powers...” The sonnet explores the idea of accepting life’s trials with quiet courage, symbolised by the "bitter cup," and trusting that even through pain, we move towards light and renewal. It echoes Bonhoeffer’s own spirit of res...

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I’ve been working on

Coming back from

The dead

Realising reality

Living in this world

Becoming me

I don’t have to know who I am

But I must know that I am

I am, I am, I am

I don’t have to know what I am

To deserve to be

I’m working on being,

Just being

Because I’ve been existing

Mindless, automatic, numb

Best autopilot, me

Coming back from the dead

...

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Getting through the day can be a challenge,

And often is an uphill struggle.

So I sometimes wonder why I go on each day,

And never find the answer to this puzzle.

 

Too oft life does not go my way

And seems to me to be unfair,

And it is when I hold my hopes up highest

That they crash down into despair.

 

This world that can be cruel and strange

But I must lead this...

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`

 

fall into pools of swirling merriment
shirk substitutes that others recommend
firm in the knowledge of purest joy
your visage clear in mind, no mental toy

stab with wanton thrusts this warm caress
reveal dream's scorn amid phobic duress
with fiery brand your chariot swift - protect
lunar spheres in shaded ponds - thoughts collect

tinge red this broken tun...

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`





gnarly fingers
veil his face,
skin thin and crusty
at spots:
splotched parchment
of years in the sun

water
cascades
from his forehead to
his chin
then meets gravity;
raindrops

through his soil-grimed
singlet, jeans and boots;
hours of toil
simmer away
in rivulets
of forgetfulness.




`

Photo by Eric Kaufman, NC

Please...

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