The tender things that carry us…

We have been watching this. It has thrilled me and it has made me weep.

About half way in, a band called ‘The Breath’ stole mine.

They were familiar songs to me- I love their albums. But watching them come together after lock down in order to sing again… sublime words, brilliant guitar playing and her voice…well, listen yourself.

My late sister would have loved it. We would have cried together, instead of me crying alone, wishing I could share it with her.

Which is kind of the point of this post. What is it that allows us to be human? The lock down has confronted us with this question in a way that we would be foolish to waste or ignore. What are we missing most? What (of the things we used to do) now seems so pointless?

What carries us?

I know myself better now. That is not to say that I am ‘sorted’, or that the brokenness is all mended. I am not sure I even aspire to those kind of solutions. Rather, let me remain tender, open to failure as much as hard success.

Today I was searching through some old poems, looking for one that might work as part of a commission, and I found this one. That will do, I thought. Not for the commission- but that will do, nevertheless.


I choose goodness


I caught a glimpse today

Of my capacity for goodness.

I thought it gone away

But there it lay

Like a laughing flapping fish

Wet mouth wide open, saying


That (despite being the epicentre of my own unfolding event)

I still know what it means to love.


That (despite all my callow grasping)

I know what it means to give.


That (despite my tendency to measure myself and find you wanting)

There is joy to be found in your achievment


I am a man full of holes

But it did not all leak away

I am broken

But I am not destroyed


Today, I choose goodness.

I choose love.

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