Stand Together Manchester

#WeStandtogether

Every parent who stood where you stood,
Collecting their son or daughter from a night out,
Draws breath deeply,
Do you have a memory of  youth, at a pop concert,
Knowing the taxi of mum or dad would be there,
To take you safely home?
We who stood where you stood,
Stand with you now.
This is the place,
Of poets,  innovators, of flower layers and great north runners,
Of the bee tattoo.
Where #WeStandTogether,
A City United.


In another place…
A mum yet again searches a child who will not return,
Yet here
No poet’s lament to empower you,
No blanket of flowers to enfold you.
No tattoo offers solidarity,
For that is the place
These things rarely make the news any more.

Stand together, Manchester.
Stand together in grief, in love, in solidarity, in hope.
Stand together with each other,
Stand together too with that other place.
We did not stand where they stood,
But in our longing for a world where love is stronger than hate,
We stand together now.

To the angels

Oh Angels,
You touch so many different places,

The Torah wrestling with Jacob,
Christmas heralding a birth,
The Holy Quran,
Angels with dirty faces,
Films, TV and pop songs,
Hiding behind lamp-posts or finding parking spaces.

Somehow you manage to find those spaces,
Beyond our expectations,
Beyond our divisions.

Messengers of new ideas,
Comforting,
Challenging.

Mystery, myth or  metaphor?
Stories, symbolism?
Dramatic images?
(Ideas are powerful!)

Not to be imprisoned in Victorian stained glass,
Neither to be forever dancing on the philosopher's pinhead,
Nor hidden in the pockets of the superstitious,
Not constrained by a tinsel halo, confined to a Christmas card,
As the serpents of war, injustice and greed,
Slither through our world,
I reclaim you,
For peace, for politics, for the peoples of the Earth.

Angel of Gaza,
Angel of Israel,
Angels of Iraq, Sudan and the Ukraine.

Hosts of angels watching over suffering places,
That never make our news.

May your eyes of flame challenge the tyrants,
Your songs of hope encourage the peacemakers,
Your soft wings enfold the suffering.

Angel of America,
Angel of Europe,
Shake awake the complacent.
Wrestle with the conflicted,
Whisper messages of peace to the humble.

Angels of Facebook and Twitter,
Of newspapers and television.
Amid the never ending stream,
Bring light,
And glimpses of truth.

All heavenly hosts,
Angels and Arc-angels,
Cherubim and Seraphim,
May a halo encircle our world,
That you may once again proclaim,
Tidings of great joy,
Peace and good will to the Earth.

And to my own Guardian Angel,
Find me a parking space,
Amid this troubled world,
A place where I might,
Be an angel too.

So little

So little

From a comfortable, safe home,
I type my name on an online petition,

In the sanctuary of church,
I light a candle.

From my financial security,
I donate to the emergency appeal,

In a free city
I wave a flag at a demo.

So little,

In the face of such suffering.

A  name, a light, a coin, a flag.

A little voice,

Yet until...
All homes are safe,
All holy places sanctuaries,
All trade is fair,
All cities are free.


May there be so many names shouting,
Lights shining,
Coins clattering,
Flags waving,
That it cannot be ignored.

Snowflakes that become an avalanche,

The world is watching!

Justice

Peace

The Ascension of the Cosmic Christ

In the beginning was the word,

And the word was with God,
Was God, 

The eternal cosmic Christ,

The word,

Wisdom,

First made matter as the word was spoken,

Giving birth to Stars and planets,

The word was with God,

And through the word all things came into being.

In every star, every leaf, every cloud, every molecule, is the word, the Christ, Holy Wisdom from the very beginning.

In all time, in all places, in all life was the word,

And in one time, in one place, in one life,

A carpenter named Jesus.

In feet that felt the dust of our Earth between his toes,

In a voice that could silence storms,

In hands that touched the diseased.

Word, wisdom, light.

But powers not from word, wisdom and light.

But from coercion, force and greed.

Could not stand the word of God,

Shown in the self giving powerful love of a human life,

And they killed Him.

But love is greater than hate,

And death could not silence the word.

Now he ascends beyond the one form of matter,

Into all matter,

Do not try to look beyond the clouds to see where he has gone,

Because, look, he returns to you,

The Cosmic Christ,

In clouds, stars, planets, trees, gamma particles and oxygen molecules,

Beyond the body of a man,

Into the body of all who make their being with God,

As it was in the beginning,
Now embracing and transcending gender, race, culture, species...
In the in inter-woven web of being,
He is with us always,

In the expanding, evolving wonder of our cosmos.

Her breath in the air that surrounds us,

His sweat and tears in every river, every sea and every raindrop.

Her voice in all who cry out in need,

His body in every piece of bread shared with the hungry.

Once again,

Powers not from word, wisdom and light,

But from coercion, force and greed.

Set out to destroy the word.

In a quest for wealth,

Polluting the air and the seas,

Silencing the voice of the needy,

Refusing to share bread.

The eternal Cosmic Christ,

The word, The wisdom of God

Cries out again for new life,

For resurrection,

The Word refuses to be silenced,

Rising to new life,

Wherever flowers bloom through cracks in a wasteland,

Wherever hope can be found in despair,

Once again love is greater than hate,

Where His disciples cry out for justice,

And if Her disciples keep silent,

The stones of the Earth will shout aloud,

Death cannot silence the word.

Look around, and listen,

Don’t look beyond the clouds,

Christ will return.

Standard English

In the new National Curriculum for Primary schools in England and Wales, there is an increased emphasis on the use of standard English, in both speaking and writing. This poem envisages what might happen.

There once was a school in Manchester,

Where folks say,  "We was, " and  "Ya wot?"

But the bloke from Her Maj's inspectorate,

Says, "This really won't do, you lot,

"We were," and "pardon" is how you must say it,

Standard English is how you must speak,

Your children need to be better spoken,

If your targets you are to reach."

So the very next day in assembly,

The head teacher gets everyone in,

And when everyone has gone quiet,

He knew it was time to begin,

"Reet, we've got to all learn to talk proper,(I mean properly)

Like all the posh kids do down South,

Standard English is what they all call it,

So watch what comes out of your mouth.

Don't say, "nowt," say "nothing",

Don't say "swear down," say " it's true."

And only say "dead" if you're actually dead,

Otherwise "very" will do."

But what will this do to our language,

If children must all speak the same?

Summut is wrong,

If we can't sing our song,

And our regional roots we can't claim.

So by all means let's teach them the difference,

For the times they will need formal words.

But when they're at play,

The words that they say,

Should be owt that they like, except swears.