The Collect for the Sunday before Lent

I am the dark sun
radiating the not-light of the world of pain
you have fallen into
self splintered into cutting shards
meaninglessly piled.
Name it if you will: depression,
loss of function, paralysing fear.
I am the dark sun
source of the dark light that reveals
what you’d rather not: pain and hidden bones
and unclean things.
We share this dim and alien world
you and I
illumined to differing degrees
by the dark rays of glory:
you on your cross and I on mine.
I am the dark sun.
This is growth, my dear, despite all,
the darkness of naked truth a glory deeper
than any you have seen before;
the violation of the Cross
the unmasking of a flinching, loving face.
Here what I AM is most terribly revealed.
Can you bear this much love?
You must be hollowed out to encompass it
as I have been.
No change is wrought on the Unchanging
only the dark light
reveals the glory of my willed defencelessness.
Courage, then:
be irradiated by this glory
let the shards be repatterned
to a supple, sinewed creature
with nocturnal gaze.
God’s darkness shining
transfigures your crucifixion
to the illumination of a hidden door.

tRuth 2006

Note: The Anglican Collect for the Sunday before Lent: Almighty Father, whose Son was revealed in majesty before he suffered death upon the cross: give us grace to perceive his glory, that we may be strengthened to suffer with him and be changed into his likeness, from glory to glory; who is alive and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

Good Friday

I write my letter to you on a plank of wood
With three sharp pens, whose iron nibs
Scribe in the red ink of my seeping blood.

I play my music to you on my hollow ribs,
My ringing bones, my drumming heart that could
Beat out all time if it had not been broken.

I sing my love song to you with my dying breath,
I the one Word by whom the world was spoken.
What came to be through me I now make good,

Repair all wrongs, and bring you through my death
Into my timeless present, for I love you.
Take life from me, who took my life, and should
Your anxious heart still need some other token,
Look up: my love is deeper than the sky above you.

tRuth 2018

 

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