Category Archives: Liturgical

Thanksgiving 2018

For the shape that things have taken
For the bending of our days
From the place we were forsaken
To the place our heads are laid

For what all the ravens brought
For the bread that wouldn’t last
For the water from the rock
For the wandering that’s passed

For the scroll that tasted sweet
Then turned to sour halfway down
For how we are made complete
By being buried, burnt, or drowned

For a tale we couldn’t write
The verse we can’t compose
For a love we couldn’t fight
For however this thing goes,

We give you thanks, oh Lord.

Maranatha In November

There is a gun in every hand

And a knife to every throat

And murder sleeps in every heart

From Adam to my infant son.


Come, Lord, quickly to your children

You, the bearer of all grief

Who has breathed and borne and buried

Every daughter, every son.


Call us by our secret names

In the dark behind ourselves

Kill us lest we kill each other

And raise us from our death.

Casa Padre

I hear the children of the earth
Call out for their Father
For the fathers of the earth
Are not what they should be.

Come back to your Father
Oh you fathers of the earth
Let Him teach you once again
What it means to be a child.

Advent 2018

Sing a song of solstice

Sing a song of SAD

Sing a song of darkness

And the night we’ve had.


Sing a song of empire

Sing the poor man’s song

Sing a song with those who’ve

Sung it all along.


Sing a song of hunger

Sing a song of want

Sing a song of wandering

Sing, and let it haunt.


Sing of a song of dissonance

Of what is and what should be.

Sing a song of longing

For the end of entropy.


Sing a song of Advent,

Of waiting in the dark,

Sing a song of Eschaton

For those with ears to hark.

Advent 2017

Every year it is the same

In November I begin

To stumble out in search of

A feeling I once had.


I search the mud and dead leaves

For something colourful and

Warm and bright and sweet enough

To get me through the dark days.


For a message in the lights

For the song behind the song

give until I feel good

But it every year eludes.


So it is one mad, cold day

That I search, frantic, through the trash

Of Decembers I have known

For a Christmas I can feel


And feel, instead, a hand placed

On the shoulder of my heart

And it breaks, and is remade

By the person Christmas is.

Advent 2015

Come carolers and let us sing

Of when He came in like a thief

To the camp of the enemy

In the dark of moon, and year.


Past the sleeping watch of history

The guard-fires, fences and the dogs

As swift and silent as the snow

To our long-accustomed prison.


There to break the ancient chains

And then to lead us one by one

Beyond the ring of firelight

Into His Father’s holy dark.


And in the morning when they came

To kick us back to wakefulness

And lay our earned judgment on

They found there sentenced in our place


An infant, come red and wailing

To a world like a winter sea

They laughed, the drowning and the frost

Who saw their doom, and knew Him not.

Easter 2018

I rolled a stone across my heart

Because it had become a tomb.

I found no sign of life in it

And so I set the seals, and slept.


I lay the winter long until

My blood ran thick as maple sap

Till my pulse was lizard-slow and

I could believe I’d died indeed.


But now the spring has come again

To break the seals of ice and dark

The roots are set to dancing and

My children call me out to play.


And to my horror and my joy

I find myself alive again

I try to call and run to them

“But who will roll away the stone?”


I am crying and am answered

With a movement in the dark.

I did not live, nor did I die

Nor was I buried there alone.


For he who was entombed with me

Did not come to rest in peace

He comes to harrow, and to raise

And to roll away the stone.