☕️ Watch Your Step

A Saturday Caesura poem

Snow ghosts the sky, a silent
invasion that falls lightly,
gently onto a heavy
pillowed blanket. Just lies there.
So quiet. Until I step
on it. Then it cries, crunches,
squeaks, scrunches, swishes, crackles.
Snow, it turns out, has a voice
and so much to say.
We once
cared for foster children - two
wide-eyed brothers who ghosted
through each day. So, so quiet.
Someone stepped on their spirits
and they stopped crying. No squeaks
or squeals of laughter, voices
silenced by fear, by neglect.

It's okay to step on snow.

☀️ The Silent One

A Sunday Doxology

Praise to you, the Word,

whose words are full of life

and healing, wisdom and

truth.

You speak words that cannot

be destroyed by lies or censorship

or even by time.

How amazing it is then,

that before your accusers,

you chose silence.

Not because you were guilty

with no adequate words of defence,

but because you were simply

exercising restraint,

a silent surrender

to fulfilling words already spoken.

Thank you.