Sonnet

Greetings.
Do not be afraid.
Was this the greatest of all meetings.
Where at last all doubt and fear was laid.

If we leave our own present place of fear.
We too will meet him somewhere.
We cannot know if on the way we will find joy or shed a tear.
We cannot tell the time or the where.

If our soul does rise again.
Will they say it was never there to be taken away.
Will we sleep for ever and never awareness regain.
Or will we, at last in great light, all our fears lay.

I may search restlessly but I do not know for certain.
I have not yet met him on the road, the truth lies behind an impenetrable curtain.

Haiku

Not met on the road
The truth lies hidden by death
But then I will know

Sonnet

That Christ is truly risen from the dead we know.
Victorious King, thy mercy show.
Now in the depths of our hearts we truly know.
All his works, bright resplendent do truly his victory show.

But once this King for a crown was given only a circlet of thorns .
A thousand years on, a reliquary holding a thorn, rests in glorious Sainte Chapelle.
Given to the new French Queen from Scotland who soon mourns.
Taken by her into cruel English exile, what despair she suffered we cannot tell.

Passed by her to a Duke’s family and then to fugitive Jesuit priest.
And finally allowed to rest in peace at Stonyhurst.
What tribulations, but finally cast in gold and set in pearls on it our eyes can feast.
But once its wearer, we think, only suffered from dire pain and thirst.

I cannot know if this truly rested on my saviour’s head.
But a thousand years of sincere veneration cannot be gainsaid.

Haiku

A reliquary
Cannot know if true or false
True veneration

Sonnet

Let us make man in our own image.
In the likeness of ourselves.
Now we approach the end of our Lenten pilgrimage.
We have sought to clear the clutter from our mind’s burdened shelves.

Last night I dreamt the world was at peace.
I felt a great unusual love for all.
But I knew I would wake and all that joy would cease.
Unconscious I was truly aware, conscious I would wait in vain for God’s call.

Now we are expectant in the dark at the Easter vigil.
Night is descending on the Cathedral.
Yet the city outside has yet to become still.
But here at least we are one people.

Surrexit Christus, soon the bonfire will be lit.
Et Dominus de Caelo intonuit, and we will feel in our hearts the resurrected spirit.

Haiku

The bonfire is lit
Feel resurrected spirit
In all of our hearts

Sonnet

Like a root in arid ground.
Without beauty, without majesty we saw Him.
We can but wonder, all we who are sound.
His face is bloodied and grim.

We were at the children’s stations.
Surveying the wondrous cross.
And hearing it sung to all nations.
Together content as a family yet mourning our loss.

Our greatest gains counted but loss.
And contempt poured on our pride.
Bearing in our mind only the weight of the Cross.
We heard at the end in his death agony how He cried.

A tear rolled down my cheek.
But was it for him or me, what do I truly seek, I am weak.

Haiku

A tear rolls down cheek
But is it for him or me
What then do I seek

Sonnet

O God who have called us to participate.
In this most sacred supper.
We search aimlessly against our fate.
We are overwhelmed with life’s clutter.

In the Mass of the Lord’s Supper.
The Cardinal was skilfully preaching.
My granddaughter tapped me on the shoulder.
Tired after a days work, I was gently snoring.

But waking, I felt a profound sense of peace.
And of patent understanding.
In my dream I had seen a vision of life given a new lease.
The gentle voice at the Passover supper had been quietly demanding.

But it was in the utter silence of the great Cathedral at the veneration.
That my soul passed at last from all agitation.

Haiku

In utter silence
At the veneration
Comes a sense of peace