🌿To Find a Poem

Sit in a favourite chair by a window.

Watch. Listen.

Go for a walk, run, or ride a bike.

Observe. Feel. Move.

Keep a notebook and pencil near by.

Jot. Record. Note.

Think about words and images and life.

Pay attention. Make connections.

Write – even if the words never become a poem.

Write – even if the words are read by you alone

Write – because this is how the poem finds itself.

But especially,

Live – because this is where the poem begins.


This is the final poem for this year’s National Poetry project. As always, this daily writing exercise has flexed muscles of observation that easily grow flabby in the distracted way that I am prone to live.

At the moment our lives are still restricted by a global pandemic, and this has certainly forced us to consider how much we actually needed all those distractions. Today, our government announced a plan to gradually reopen much of what has been closed, and while I look forward to this, I also want to remain still and quiet and observant. I have much more to see and know and learn – about the world, certainly, but mostly about myself and about the God who knows the power of words.

🌿I Wonder

I wonder if the disciples woke up that morning

exhausted from anxious days

heavy with grief

burdened with shame

numb with despair.

I wonder it they had talked and talked and talked

trying to make sense

trying to recall kingdom words they had barely understood

now beginning to settle into something like hope

but if true

suggesting a future far greater than their yearnings

for a return to what was.

I wonder if the only thing they knew with certainty

was that the sun had risen

on another day.

Life continued.

I wonder what they felt the moment they grasped

this truth

in its greatest and most profound sense.