Friday, 1 March 2013

Scargill, 4am

Patchwork quilts have old and new scraps.  I'll be transferring some poems and pieces across from my other blog, mainly for ease of finding them here.  If you've already read them, bear with me - I'll be adding new ones too!  This one was written on family retreat in September, when Jeremy was not quite 4 months old.

Scargill, 4am

I told myself I'd use this time to pray,
But my son's sleepy snuffling at the breast
Has lulled me to a semi-slumbering rest
And skims the rising bubbles of my prayers away.
Subjects occur to me, but never stay:
In the peripheries of my mind swim pleas and fears
That vanish, like a star which disappears
When looked at straight. The dawning of the day
Is nearly here. Birdsong. I sigh and yawn.
My reverent efforts having failed, my thoughts
Switch to toast and coffee: prayer leaves with no trace.
Yet somehow, in the meshes of the dawn
Around this prayed-in place, my prayers are caught
And every wordless word is heard with grace.

1 comment:

  1. Oh Amy that is really beautiful. I can see you sat there with Jeremy. :-) Lynn