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The Speechless Sing

  • Silent Garden

    In the silent garden,

    we stood with graves laid out

    as if disbelief could turn back time.


    Sometimes, silence is all we have to express ourselves;

    awed, astonished, ashamed, ashen,

    silent as the grave.


    In the hushed corner plot,

    woeful folk quietly plant raised beds

    as if peace could descend with new blooms.


    Sometimes, silence sings collusions victory dance;

    soft, scented, scared, scarred,

    hushed with inaction.


    In the secret terrace, 

    weans play a raucous hide ’n seek

    as if solemn tongues could break into laughter.


    Sometimes silence is the comma, as life explodes -

    caught, caressed, carried, carved,

    gleeful Easter’s fête.


    In festival garden,

    world-weary ones feast on merriment,

    as if lament will be heard no more.


    Sometimes, silence proclaims extravagant garlands,

    plaited, pretty, presented, pricey 

    fanfare of rebirth.


    Craig Muir  March 2017

    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

    I wanted to write something that viewed Jesus’ burial site as a garden - as that would be the natural place for Mary to meet with “the Gardener”  But I found myself imagining a park where different activities go on alongside one another and yet still told a story that takes a community from despair to delight.

    In one corner is a burial area, - so often there is little to be said  after the formal words - we say little but are reluctant to move away.

    in another corner people are gardening - finding some healing in doing so - but it also contrasts the way silence can be companionable with the times when our failure to speak out colludes with injustice.

    In another corner the children (heard but not seen) play (weans is not a natural world for me but it allows the part rhyme of we/wo/we/wo to begin each second line) children really allow life to remain quiet for long - they are the reminder to us that life goes on - that so many moments that seem like a full stop - are really just a comma, as the story unfolds. (And couldn't resist the homophone of fête with fate) 

    In another corner, it’s time to party, parade, feast, festival - Easter time!

  • Evening Moon

    Evening moon,

    peeking o'er treetops,

    glinting through Friday's fog.

    Ready for the weekend?

  • Imagine

    Church as

    blind receiving sight

    the lame walking

    lepers cleaned

    the deaf hearing

    the dead raised

    the poor have good news brought

    people who are blessed


    Church as

    the healing pool

    the recovery ward

    the regeneration site

    the restoration project

    the redevelopment agency

    the new business park

    the good news agency

    the escape committee

    a signpost for blessings

    a witness to grace

    a welcome to hopefulness

    a green light to adventure

    a journey with God


    Church as

    Wilderness voice