Where is the sweet sound of grace?

Not just an act of grace or simple gratuity

But a perfumed, pervasive grace note

Adding lightness to life’s grinding song of lament.

Screens filled with sadness

The media serving dark news with our dinner

Falling like a weighted blanket on conversations

Loaded words driving people apart

Sowing distrust between us

Insidious weeds that choke conversations

Virus-like stealing our health

Our ungrace sucks our very life

And is exhausting.

Grace defies explanation

Best conveyed in looks and hugs

Gifts or choosing to be silent

Acts of love that cross divides

Costing the giver dearly

But in acceptance are free.

Acts that melt away disgrace, abuse and shame

That spread like soothing oil

And precious perfume.

Acts that break the rules

Gratified to find a lover’s love languages

Gracious love that blesses others

And returns with interest to the givers.

Relationships not regulations

Saving grace.

Servant Babette used all her fortune

Creating a generous feast

Exotic foods that cost her, sourced from afar

Prepared with hospitable love and labour

For those who came.

Opening the way for grace to enter

Changing the village

As only grace can transform.

We sit at a table prepared just for us

Oil slathered on our heads and feet,


JW December 2023

(Torres Strait language for full moon)

New crescent moon

Rising at dawn, a silver sliver

Trailing the bright orb in its waxing

Reaching the first quarter

Emerging languorously at midday

Gibbously glorious.

Obtusely angled

Daily later and larger

Luminous in its swelling

Competing with its gravitational star

Entering the sky at dusk.

Pink moon

Fulsomely round, facing off sun

Sprouting grass and egg moon

Packed with new life

Hanging large and unreal

First nations see

Fish become moon as waters rise,

Swelling tides

Giz meb

Falling tides as bright circle shrinks

To third quarter, last

Chasing fish to nets

Waning to a silent midnight arrival

Ready to rise again

An Easter moon.