Sarah de Nordwall blog

The Garden Tomb in Jerusalem

The tomb was empty of all but light And the sunshine blessed the opening in the roof of the tombLike a messenger from a brighter world. And in the absence of everyone elseBoth the living and the dead Whose endless needs and questions had been oppressing me darklyWith the weight of their centuries of unresolvable…

A Feast for Easter

When God speaks welcome Into an aching heart – thereHeaven has come home. When water is poured On tired hands that long for touchThere Love has spoken. When philosophy Fails and wealth closes the heartGod’s joy awakens. See, He is Risen.His people are not alone.You are invited To the Feast. Sarah de Nordwall April 2007

SOM* – I close my mouth

SOM – I close my mouthAs the wraiths pass over the houseTearing at the rooftiles with malicious glee. I allow them no entranceI have learnt of the desert deaths. I stand as the storm ragesAnd the land is wildly purified I stand and you have departed. I breathe as the wind pales. “He split the…

All the suffering

All the sufferingAll of it Will come to an End The flowers bright with pinkAnd daisies white with joyful innocence Push up Thrust forth With excellent urgency Towards the SpringTo Easter tide And all their roots are Gripped with ecstasy. All the suffering All of itWill come to an End And not justAn ending But…

for the love of a Nazi tea service

For the love of a Nazi tea serviceI hear he gave a large sliceOf his barrister’s fee And suddenly I see himHastening his tailored stepTo bring the rustling paper package home At last, to place its treasured contents On the table and unwrap an empireOf porcelain, the most expensive thing he owns. The elegance is…

the golden thread

Bring me the scissors and the golden threadThe pins of silver and whiteAnd I will weave a cloth of starsTo wrap you in tonight. For love creates a word in me That breathes in empty roomsAnd now the veil of absence blowsAnd here the iris blooms. My tears distilled in Venetian glassAs deep as the…

because of reading John Betjeman

Last night I walked through Brixton Station dead on midnight.The digital clock turned zero. I waited just to watch the 1 appear..The zeros didn’t budge. The 4 noughts stood unmoving in a row. The station strangely empty, I suddenly looked round And had a foolish and a horrid fear that maybe This was it,My time…

be my guest

Fortitude, Prudence, Temperance, Justice.My four strong sistersThank you for your aid.But now, I ask you with a simple graceTo stop and sit down at the Sabbath Gate. Put down your toolsAnd breathe before you enterFor something greater than yourselves is here. And it is He who will refresh youHe who will provideHe who will require…

Poem Makers and Change Makers

The poem maker builds a world in her headAnd in that world we dreamThe change maker builds a world in her headAnd in that world we live The poem maker lives in the change makers worldBut the change maker dreams in the poem makers world The poem maker builds a world in her headAnd in…

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