I poured and drank a final glass of wine with you
Undertaking that sacrament
With a pure heart, for the very last time.
But where was the rapture
Of union with my God?
Unconsecrated, I yearned
for flames, and burned
Burned with something else
Unspoken, like a prayer.

It is becoming harder to find people who refuse to be cowed by fear, and made to hate.

Our borders are a circus sideshow; we sit in increasingly uncomfortable pews and watch the sad, desperate clowns beg for some of our popcorn, and the chance to sit down and rest, for just a little while. We don’t want the popcorn; we want hotdogs and french fries but it all costs too much these days, and that’s their fault too.

Build more fences, send more dogs.

Children scream as their ears bleed but they aren’t ours, they aren’t anywhere near ours. They aren’t anything to do with us and it isn’t our fault or our problem. A young boy washes in the sea closer to home. The salt stings and his body starves and he’s the ultimate unwanted. He wants to return to a home that will hurt him even more, and to a family returned to the earth. Blame the French. Blame the Greeks. Blame the Muslims and the Syrians, the swarming, stinking hordes.

So come to the circus, and bring your kids, 3000 crying clowns, all walking the tightrope without a net. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my. The horses have bolted and the dancing girls have all been sliced in two. The ringmaster never drops his whip. He sits in the centre and laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

A small kindness can’t sustain
A screaming, starving child.
One step at a time
Won’t bridge the distance
Between salvation and despair.

I click that button.
I like that you are running to beat cancer,
But you won’t.

The world boils and burns.
I won’t share anymore,
Because I don’t care anymore.

Grief consumed by vampires
Ravenous for pain and loss,
An arm around the shoulders,
A rictus grin, another gaping maw,
Then a quick flash.
Acknowledging their hunger, he has none of his own
And no-one else to feed,
He is the son of a new angry tribe
And a father of none.

It did not look like rain.
And then, slowly,
Clouds gathered, fat drops fell.
A perfect storm can take you by surprise.
Words fall into my hands and your lap,  streams of language,
A downpour, from that stern and sombre sky,
A deluge, spilling sudden, wrenching, overwhelming need.
I fear that we will drown.
I hope that we will not.
You cannot stop the sky when it cries,
And so, we let the storm pass.
Now, I take your hand, and run towards the sun.
Laughter sparkles, there are diamonds on the wet, worn road,
Washed clean, the landscape itself surprised, renewed,
It did not look like rain.

The sun shines, the sea sparkles,
Laughter fills the air, delighted chuckles
Bubble from cavorting cupids,
This is their time, memories built
On a sweet summer day,
Happiness founded on laughter and play.

This languid Aphrodite, though
Must be content with vicarious joy,
Seeking balm in the salt sea,
Soaking invisible wounds, savouring the sting.
Far away, Adonis waits, and waits,
To bathe with her once more.