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Tuesday, 8 July 2014


fire burns to ashes
wind blows the dust
air stirs the treetops
dryness weeps for water
life passes on

sorrow and joyfulness swing together
upon tomorrow's losses

so pierced

broken through the so soft surface with the strength of steel
causing water to seep from the pool of my eyes
breaking dawn what loss will you herald?
what sorrow will you incorporate into your day?
what thread will your dusk weave through the night so as to connect my piercing with yours?
when will the so thin thread glimmer silver in the fragile morning light
be pulled so tight so as to unite us in the grief of death
and the joy of returning so transfigured?

Saturday, 21 June 2014


should I become old I would that my paper-thin skin glows with some sort of luminosity

Friday, 13 June 2014

They say that there is kiss

They say that there is kiss
That will cause Beauty to stir in her deep sleep
Move her head, arms, feet
Her pale cheek to flush so slightly
Under the pressure of tender lips
Eyelids to flutter, then to open

They say there is a Prince called Truth
Full of Peace
In whose veins flow liquid love
He longs to awaken Beauty
To walk with her along paths of Goodness
And birdsong

Friday, 25 April 2014

Grieving Father

Do you think that you will not see her again?

Again to fix your eyes on that so familiar form and feel the warm rush of loving ...

Form, vanished one day so suddenly into the vain thin air.

Do you think that you will not hear her again?

That the universe does not hold the sight and sound of her, reverberating outside of your remembrance?

The knowledge Love bears all things is stored in an everlasting bank for you to withdraw today.

You bore her weight in life and in death she rested on your strong shoulder, made so through fatherhood.

24 April 2014

Saturday, 29 March 2014

Out of the Mist

Out of the Mist
I held within the Saviour of the world
And walked, step by step, into the unknown
Blood and cries gave birth to Him
And as I saw myself in those dear eyes
I knew now there were different stars to behold
Other treasures to find . . .

As He grew, a tree sometimes cast a shadow across my path
Memories would return: His tiny hand clasping my finger
Him labouring in the workshop
Handling wood, pausing to talk to me
Such skilled hands that were to reach out
To those no one would touch . . .

My boy
I could not protect Him from those hate-filled looks
Murderous whispers and a jeering crowd
I could not take Him back inside
Overshadowed by rough wood
This time the blood and cries were His . . .

And as darkness fell
He spoke from out of the mist
I could barely understand it then
Giving me another family
John’s strong arm supporting me
As I stumbled and wept
Remembering the words I spoke at the beginning of it all . . .

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour ...

Words: SC Fordham, Image: Walter Hayn

Thursday, 13 March 2014



I always imagined
ruin’s touch
to be harsh  
but it was like a hand
on my shoulder
gently pushing me down  
I always imagined
the ground to be cold  
but it was to envelop me
like a mother  
by unquestionable arms
I was down  
I was part of the earth


I am a seed in God’s hand  
I can barely see now  
but have felt both the sun and the rain
as my heart burning  
my real tears  
and with every day
I was reducing  
I was becoming only one thing  
knowing only one thing  
that God would bury me  
and the time came  
He whispered  
is the only way to live 


time advances stronger than an army ready to strike
cut me down to the ground
where I now live and am like a seed being covered
dug into soil
yes it starts long before the final burial
but there are no witnesses for this  
to be born you die  
my Father said  
be as a seed into the ground  
wait there in the great sleep underground 
 to live  
so you can become like me
 who you sought when it was day