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Saturday, 28 March 2015

it was this way...


I disposed myself towards something
put myself in the way of it
turned away from
no
turned toward
who knows
difference is dangerous
it implicates itself

Walking to town
counting the aves
finger rosary
like granny did
in the gas mantle light
of Railway Road

Then beads
strung together
a different feel
to life
rediscovering
noticing
Bridge Chapel
School of prayer

Opening and closing
breathing new life
into different dust
ashes of the past
coalesce
take old ways by the hand
and enfold

The river tells its tale
of upstream
ancestors
of downstream
decedents
chortling downstream
of mystery caught in the middle

Bless me father for I have sinned...
that's ok - we know
welcome aboard.


Thank you.