Connective
Tissue
| Poems by
Ruth McLean |
Images
by Patrick Wey Click
on image for
further information. |
caught
caught
in the vortex
of a swirling
web
i am paralyzed ...
snagged
unable to move.
invisible spiders
wind their
film
about my arms
my feet
my mind;
around my thoughts
my prayer
my life.
confused and
bound
i lie
in trance.
the weakness
of my humanness
the frailty
that is born of me
well up
and snare
my vague attempts
to mount the dock
of reasoning,
to cease the whirling
of the threads.
fumbling and
sightless
i cannot unsnarl
the lines
immobilized
by gathering
winds
i cannot fight.
helplessly i exist
and start
to grow so very tired.
Chris
son
brother
friend.
we said a formal goodbye to you
today...
but you know...
it is never goodbye
but only hello, again...
for you will be with us
every waking moment.
of our lives.
you will be with us
in every breath we take
and every laugh we share.
when we
gaze at the sunsets on the beach
you will sit beside us in spirit
and together
we will enjoy them.
when we walk silently in the forest
you will walk beside us
and marvel at the beauty.
when we gather as a family
you will be present...
watching and listening
and loving us.
And when it is night time
you will be our angel
sitting on our shoulders
guarding and caring
for each of us.
Chris...
our son
our brother
our friend
we love you and hold you always
in our memories
and in our hearts.
empty
can
empty
feeling
empty can
empty me.
longing
missing wanting yearning
finally driven
to phone you ... dial ... ring once ...
lose nerve
... hang up quickly
brush teeth
get ready for bed
transfer pain to paper
hug fetch
go to sleep
empty can
can empty.
one
moment
Reaching out
to touch a finger
of the One
Who knows me best.
jesus,
jesus
warm jesus,
holy jesus,
baby to the world...
starving children,
aching children,
babies of the world...
gentle jesus,
mary's jesus,
resting deep in wait ...
dying children,
our children,
moaning as they wait
swaddled by the night's
protection,
cradled
drowsy at the breast;
helpless to
what lay before him,
victim of his humanness...
shivering, shaking in the darkness,
racked by pain and hopelessness;
feeble hands reach out for comfort,
grasping withered, empty breasts.
wandering jesus,
hunted jesus,
oracle of love...
our jesus,
mystery jesus,
exiled out of fear...
suffering children,
desert children,
mirrors of despair...
our children,
battered children,
wasted by the world.
jesus, jesus,
human jesus,
fugitive for us...
jesus, jesus,
human jesus,
bleeding in our arms.
me
me
an unknown quantity,
a bottle with
no label
lying on the
shelf
overturned
on my
side
the air sucked
out,
empty
dusty.
waiting
for someone
to pick
me up
and fill
me
with
a known substance,
something that
can be
identified
named;
something with
a label
so
i can be known
and put in
a special
place.
i
can be set
on a
shelf
with
other bottles.
i can look like
i belong.
lost
where have you
gone?
lost in the pages
of my memory
I can't find you.
you were kind loving
gentle warm strong
I remember ....
I was proud
to call you friend .......
my friend.
now ....
it's anger aggression
winning
fighting controlling.
I struggle
to find you.
where have you gone?
where are you going?
do you like who you are?
who you are becoming?
who is this person
who wishes to dominate others?
I thought I knew you.
I didn't,
I don't.
sad
feeling
sad ...
steely gray ...
like a
piece of used up steel wool
rolled in a ball
and thrown
in a dusty corner.
feeling lonely
missing you
feeling sad
missing. feeling.
wondering
about you
and what's going on in your head
wondering
about you
and what's going on in your head.
grieving
the loss of you
as close to me...
my best friend
leaving me...
going.
going somewhere
going now
going.
too busy too this
too that too you
too enclosed in
too enclosed in in in in in in in in in
to call
me
who needs you
me
who has loved you
me
who had a best friend
me.
alone
watching
hurting
hoping
letting
you choose your road
letting
you live your life your way.
now .........tired
of
hurting waiting wondering.
tired saddened
slowly packing,
i
too
will soon be going.
going somewhere
going soon
going.
searching
searching
among the stars and thistles
for that one
rare wild flower
that will bloom and flourish
amidst
the everyday smog
and trampling armies.
That one
fragile purple flower
that will rebirth itself
with each new death ...
waiting for
its gaze
to be held
and claimed.
The prairie's dawn,
the painter's brush,
the water coloured breaths
that wish this fragile dream
into existence.
Living testimony
of the tearing need
for completeness.
thread
ALL of our life
hangs
by
a
thread.
One
thread
that can be snipped,
cut,
dissolved
at any one minute.
ALL
that is in our life
hangs
by
a
thread.
family friends precious ones
health balance stability
peace power
happiness…
A thread
that hangs precariously in space…
Dangling our priorities
In the face of harmful predators.
Know THIS
And know that…
The
thread
and all it holds
is held and sustained by ONE
Who is
So mysterious and absolute
That we shall never comprehend
or appreciate
the reality.
A thread,
the thread,
Your thread.
Be worshipful
For this thread is sacred.
the
package
I know you are there God,
I know you surround
me,
but it's not how it's
been packaged...
You're not in all
those books I've read,
You're not in all
those rules I learned through the years;
You're
not in the church I MUST ATTEND
or not "be saved ..."
You're NOT in all
those places, meetings, ideas and expectations
I spent
so much time trying
to attend and live up to,
so that I would
find you...
You are much,
much greater
than all of
that.
You are everywhere.
You are
in all that breathes life.
You are in everything
I see and hear
that holds
beauty.
You exist longer,
farther and deeper
than I can
ever hope to understand or imagine.
You communicate
through
your totally
awesome and perfect creation...
the green of the trees,
the sun and wind on the water,
the pastel colours in the sky at sunset.
My eyes search
the heavens
and marvel
at your unparalleled MYSTERY.
Your unending and unfolding existence.
I have no answers,
I have
only torturing questions.
I must throw
away the package
I was given
so many years ago
so that I can
begin
to
listen.
the
voices
the voices
speak
to the
question...
nothing is a
brilliant colour
standing
out
against
the background
standing on
its own.
nothing
is black
and white
and boldly
leads...
there is only
this question
this
journey
this plain
grey journey.
there is only
this journey
now.
closings
closings hurt…
they are sad…
sad in our
deepest part.
closings can be openings…
the chance for newness and rebirth
they are rooted in the past
but spread
their wings into the future.
closings can make us
angry
at those
who do the closing
they are a
struggle
as something
dear is wrenched out of our arms.
closings are
an inevitable part of life
they create sharp pain
as the birthing process runs its cycle.
closings are loss…
we lose
something of the past
that is part
of us
who we are.
closings force
us into an opening
that
allows light,
growth,
air.
closings are like a
tearing off
of one of our limbs
they make us bleed
and weep.
closings are
wounds
that heal over time…
if we
let them.
closings are like the
threat
of a
long sleep
from which we won't wake up
we are afraid
of the future walk
into the unknown.
openings
cannot emerge
unencumbered and free
without the sacrificial blessing
of the closing.
try your wings
for
the beautiful souls
of all the exiles and outcasts
that are living among us;
for all who are straining to be free
but are kept locked
in invisible chains ...
try your wings
o gentle birds,
and learn to fly.
take flight
and soar
above the world
that is your cage.
take flight
and soar
without the masks
that hide your faces.
let ropes be loosed
that bind your hearts
and keep you helpless
in your nests.
let ropes be loosed
that choke your voices
and still the songs
which in you sing.
o try your wings
my gentle birds,
and spread your feathers
in the sun,
unveil your colours
dipped in love.
take flight
and let your beauty flow,
and paint your souls
upon the skies.
we are ...
we are
the refugees ...
who move by night
and hide by day
outcasts.
fleeing
by moonlight
hiding
in shadows
evading
enemy eyes
escaping
anonymous gunfire
frantic bleeding frightened torn.
snagged
in barbed wire
accosted
by footsteps
bitten
by humankind
assailed
by brothers
mocked
by sisters
tormented weeping trembling lost.
we are
the refugees ...
who move by night ...
and hide by day ...
Who are
you ... God?
You are the wind
in my face,
blowing against my cheek
when i question,
whispering life in my ear.
quiet
at first ...
waiting for me to break the silence,
listening to my thoughts, my wails,
my ramblings;
watching me tread the waters
of doubt, despair, confusion.
waiting for me ...
to want you,
to need you,
to miss you,
wondering ...
how long i will take
to wade through my
thick
dark
swamps.
quiet
at first ...
then ...
rushing
rushing through the door
searching out my face
and blowing
blowing against my cheek,
blowing life into my heart,
telling me you ... are.
telling me,
you are wind.
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