Archive | March 2016

A Bird’s Sunday

When the bird returned to his nest on Friday he was not surprised to see a small funeral gathering. His bush was in a cemetery garden after all. What was unusual about this funeral was the haste with which they went about their business. There were no mourners, just two men wearing fancy clothes. And the body. That was the other strange thing, the body didn’t have the same smell as the other bodies usually did. Normally they smelled of spices and flowers, this one just smelled of blood and sweat. The men had left just before sundown and the bird payed little heed to the scene that had played out before his nest. Read More…



The sun rises but all is still dark

When the light is dead what is left but the blackest darkness of the soul?

There is food but all are starving

When the bread is broken, how can we be filled?

There is water but endless thirst

Without the living spring what can quench our parched dryness?

There are paths but all are lost

Without the way where is there left for us go?

There is learning but no truth

When the teacher is gone what guidance remains?

There is life but all are dead

Who can live when the source of life is gone?

There is despair

For how can hope survive the grave?

There is fear

If life itself can die then will not death come for us all?

There is mourning

For how can joy coexist with the death of all that is good?

There is guilt

It should have been me instead. I should have stayed with him.

There is a promise

But it lies forgotten in the distant traces of memory.

It will be remembered

But not today.

Today is Saturday.

A Chilly Friday Morning

It was so late that it was early. The cold of the wee hours had sunk into my bones as I stood outside the gate. It had been the longest night of my life. I had stayed up all night many times before, but this was different. The long nights on the lake were business as usual for me, but a midnight arrest and mock trial at a kangaroo court were all new. My teacher, my friend, was inside being accused of all manner of wrongdoing, and here I was, trying to build up my nerve to find out what was going on. Unable to bear the cold any longer, I made my way cautiously towards the fire in the courtyard. Read More…