Three Lenten poems by Philippa Linton
The mountains shimmer ... image from Pixabay Desert, day one There is now only him under the white sky. The mountains shimmer, the wind scours every cell, sand grained beneath his fingernails. For the first time he feels how vast and uncaring the universe is to a merely mortal. Nothing but the rocks and crows. He notices the sparrows, wanly smiles. Cold at night beneath the ancient waltz of stars, he sets his face as flint facing his destiny this is the path this is his way here where he yields to being forged like a flame in the desert. Ash Wednesday, 9 March 2011 The real me. The eternal You ... image from Pixabay Ash Wednesday Into the wilderness, something has driven me, thirsty and hungry. The valley of desolations, the criss-crossing paths of another’s suffering. I’d rather blot it out but heavy clouds are massing. Rain. At leas...