A TIME TO CLEAR THE
STONES AWAY
(AFTER ECCLESIASTES 3:1-8)

Uneasily falls the light on empty streets,
our blighted souls between two worlds,
dressed only in the tatters of our plans,
we monitor each other cautiously,
alert for invisible assassins,
we surrender our anonymous dead,
sacrificed without words or flowers,
stacking their coffins high,
Lego-ed bulwarks against our pain,
— and yet
magpies still wake us,
songs as bells of consecration,
creeks still creep seaward with delight,
in deepest forests, trees
still yearn slowly skyward,
the Eastern Grey Egret, relentless,
fossicks in wetland mud,
all you prophets of patience,
the Continuum of Love overlaying us yet.

Did we forget to touch our sacred land?
let dreams unfettered fly?
gaze wordless at the moon divine?
— remember
to everything there is a season,
a time to every purpose.
This is the time to go within
to find in stillness who we are,
to step aside, allow the earth take charge,
a time to clear away the stones,
await the songs of magpies
yet to be composed.