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Poetry by Bec

Some short little poems inspired by the 'senses of worship' workshop with Janet Munn.

To look upon your holiness
until the imprint of the cross
is left in my sight.
Those white lines meaningless in shape- meaning in the sacrifice.
The supernatural cloaking my natural
My physical touching the metaphysical

I close my eyes
and in the darkness,
the silhouetted love is all I see.

I nailed him there.
With my hands pierced his.
Stains of love over his palms.
My signature on his back.

Here is a poem based on Comissioner Bond's sermon on the sunday of Brengle. She spoke briefly on recieving compliments and imaginging them as crowns.

She gave me a crown today.
She propped it on my head.
As much as I pretend I don
t want it
I take it in the end.

I always give them away.
I prop up people too.
Even when I don
t mean it.
I shouldn
t, but I do.
Awkward crowns, crowns to fill the silence, a crown clothed in green

But today I received a crown
Of smiles and honesty.
I took it from her hands and accepted joyfully.
But this evening I understand,
Where this crown belongs.
At the feet of my father.
At the foot of the cross.