1388

What does it really mean to be a Christian?

What do I have to do to follow Christ?

Do I need to be baptised or sign up

To one particular church or take advice

From those who claim to know the truth and follow

Every letter of their written laws

Handed down from time immemorial

Except for that obscure and tiny clause

Which was dropped somewhere along the way

Because it did not fit the current fashion

And, anyway, no one seemed to care

For those who did were all hot-heads whose passion

Harped on and on that we should simply be

Like Jesus, who alone could set us free.

Brian Hick August 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 27.9.25

 1387

'How shall I put so many words

Into one little book?'

She said, in all seriousness

To her father on the train,

Puzzling over summer homework tasks

Epics for a six year old's young brain

Is there any difference

Between her and me?

Wrestling with the words that fail

To say what I intend;

Sitting upon the page they seem to sneer

At my poor attempt to shape the bend.

For where she writes with simple ease

Letting each sentence fall

With little thought for what will come

Till it's on the page,

My efforts are more often rubbed from view

Reducing me to impotence and rage.

Oh that my muse was a little child

And not a lecturer

Free to invoke the strange and wild

Rather than provoke

The fretting of an aging man who yearns

To free himself and throw off the yoke.

Brian Hick August 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 25.9.25

1386

Peace has come into my heart.

After all the stress of work,

The subtle arguments,

The careless words;

Peace has settled in a way I have not known before.

I try to stay on top, make things turn out

The way I think they should

But even when, sometimes, they do

The acid in my gut

 Tells me it is not so.

But now

That I have stopped trying to win,

To be the boss, always in control,

Nothing has changed

Except

The acid drops

Are gone.

I sleep at night;

I feel relaxed all day.

The work gets done but there is time to read,

To listen to the Proms, to simply sit

And bask.

I sense you smile at my stupidity

Thinking that being in charge was up to me.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 23.9.25

 

 1385

Shanklin - July 14

The tide has turned and here beyond the waves

A line of sand lies warming in the sun.

Cool on my feet, it could be the seabed

Full fathom five and far below where fishes

Choose the height or depth at which they swim

Move freely in between, while I am bound

To squat close to the all too solid earth.

I stand amid the waves but my feet drift

And sink as sand dissolves,

Pebbles shifting with the morning tide.

While all above is stable in the breeze

And statue-like I seem to be unmoved

Everything below the water's edge

Drifts out of focus and the clarity

Of air and sun is dissipated, until

All dissolves into a single whole,

Translucent, changing, yet more unified

Than the stark contrasts of the air-born world.

Ever-shifting, always out of reach,

If I sense you, you are gone before

I can pin you down,

And eve now, seventy years on,

You're still elusive and the simple faith

I hoped would come with age

Seems further away than ever - even though

I sought you in the charismatic heights,

Dived into the depths of liturgy,

Walked pilgrimages, sought the shrines of saints -

All helped, but did not last,

For while I knew you lay behind them all

The waters never cleared to let me see

A permanence, a rock on which to stand;

Only the shifting sands which seems to say

Give in, let go, there is no other way.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 19.9.25

 1384

Off to the Isle of Wight with Emily,

Henry, George and Hannah - till Sunday

When Nick will join them all - with Sally and me.

Off to the Isle of Wight.

We're booked in a Little Hyde near Sandown Bay

Which will be packed with every family

Looking to relax, chill out and stay

Cool, despite the heat, the games and free

Family shows that round off each day,

When calm descends, and time for you and me.

Off to the Isle of Wight.

Are we ready? Are the cases packed?

Is the satnav primed, the OS map,

Towels and tea-clothes, boots and bottles stacked?

Are we ready?

The south coast road is slow and to cap

It all the caravans round Chichester

Are nose to tail, seeming to enwrap

The city in a ring of boils, sinister

White lumps which crawl and ooze to fill each gap

While tempers fray and start to fester.

Are we ready?

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 17.9.25

 1382

Yr 9 on the train

The girl's language shows

That at school they are being

Taught to be fish-wives.

1383

First Night

The hottest day so far

The first Aspell of the season

Thy Kingdom come.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 15.9.25

( Perhaps the first night of the Proms; perhaps the first cider) Sally Hick

 1380

A dove in the trees,

Calm of twilight, silent skies;

All that is, is well.

1381

And I will sing of the White Horse

Of the God that I adore

Of the Ridgeway Path and the Downland

Now and for ever more.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 12.9.25