Be God’s Hands


Be God’s Hands

Be the honey that is
sweet to the taste and
removes the hard words.

Be the rippling brook
that brings balm
to the bleeding wounds.

Be the clear blue sky
on a fine day that brings
hope in the storms of life.

Be the arms that surround me
and make me feel
that I belong.

Be the bridge that
opens up new possibilities
when all other roads seem shut.

Be God’s hands.


After The Swim


After the swim

It had been a good swim
that day as I dried myself
in the cubicle.

Then, one by one, I donned
the garments of

The suit and tie,
to cover my nakedness.

The watch, so I could
arrive on time and not

The house keys, so that
I could keep my family
safe and secure.

The spectacles, so I would
not feel a fool if people
were addressing me
and I didn’t realise.

Finally the wallet, to
pay my way and show
the world who I was and that
I had made it, so to speak.

I wondered how Adam felt.

Afternoon Walk

With each plodding foot against
the gravel I strain to hear
your voice.
Can I hear your heartbeat
over this slow, rhythmic,
crushing sound?
Perhaps you’re in the wind,
rustling high in the trees?
The rugged, rusting, yellow digger
stands for progress.
Its windscreen
is now cracked.
Some local youths perhaps.
What is progress anyway?
And now I’m reminded
that all you want
is a willing heart and a
life completely surrendered
to your will.
I make my way home.