The things you can practise

You cannot practise dying, though we want to do it well
We don’t want to appear foolish when we might  be in hell
We can practise smiling and opening the door
Unless like me you’re crippled and you’re feeling  very low
You can practise  music, you can practise Art 
You can practise hiding in the burrows of the heart
Then you get to go on stage and  do it all for real
Dying ain’t for  dummies but allow yourself to feel
You can practise for your wedding, your baptism and your fall
In the hall of mirrors where God lives off the wall
You can practise  speaking, you can do it many ways
Then you must stop practising,  and say the words today
In the little spaces  in between the sounds
Let yourself be  emptied, you are on the Holy Ground

Words

 

Words rise up like geese at dawn

When with pale sun new day is born

The words approach and dance in line

The choice of words is mine

Words spelled here by sense and sound

In clause and sentence weave around.

Which tempting words shall I now use

And which shall I refuse?

The fire lights up inside my heart

So now my writing hand can start

“This is the way I spend my day.

With words I sing and play!