Poems by Christina Wieland

 

Fifty Minutes

 

Low level attacks

Neither war nor peace

A state of emergency

The terror

The famine

 

Or simply 

The apathy

 

And what about

The Red-Cross parcels

That are sent back unopened?

What about the aid agencies

That are refused entry?

What about the food that is destroyed

Burnt

Or left to rot?

 

Humankind’s collected sins

Appear unadorned

Un-atoned

The ordinariness of sin

The banality of evil

In fifty minutes

 

In the midst of a world

That declared sin an anachronism

And evil always on the other side

 

In the midst of plenty

Generosity is lacking

And intoxication wins the day

 

The fifty minutes tick on

The foibles of generations visit the couple

Peter’s betrayal

Paul’s denial

 

The hope resurrected

Again and again

Out of the ashes of Hiroshima

 

Links cut

And links re-forged

 

As for myself

I struggle to accept

What has been given to me now

 

And entrusted to me down the generations

The seed of truth

In human encounters.

 

      (London 2008 )

 

*****

 

 

Lost In Fragmentation

 

Dreams fade

And illusions dissolve

 

A new map is drawn

Among the ill-designed streets

Where steps echo

And fill the crowded rooms of the past.

 

In the curved space of the real

Where do sounds go?

And do we need a new perspective

To gather together the lost objects

To face a present 

That gives no assurances

Apart from our capacity to gather our lost dreams

And face the lost ark?

 

Do we need a new space

The words that link

The language that brings together

 

The colours that create a picture

The waves that are part of the ocean

 

Do we need a new language

To stop the disintegration

That ravages the earth?

 

*****

 

The Sea and other Journeys

 

Where the waves lap the shore

Where the sand glistens

Wet and salty

Where the mermaids sing

And ships plough the horizon

Where dreams are blue

 

Blinded by the light

So cruel

So naked

The spray on the face

The salt on the lips

 

How many years

How many centuries

How many epochs

Unaware

Uninterpreted

Before the beginning

Before the word

Before a mind created the story

 

 

You are here my child

Innocent of meaning

Not a blank sheet

But a sponge

Absorbing

Dreaming

Dreaming the sea

Creating the sea

Together with mother’s love

You drink in the sea

The living element

 

Here my child

Where the sea meets the sky

And tears meet with dreams

And transform the universe

 

And the sun lowers its light

Caresses the waves

And they turn smooth

They whisper secrets

To those who want to listen

The enliven the human cells

Each glows in isolation

And all of them

Into a flaming body

That burns the earth.

 

Here my child

Meaning meets its end

 

And the next morning

When God creates the earth once again

When birds and insects awake

And the light of heaven

Hits the hills and valleys

And wild flowers 

 

When sleep wanes

And humans emerge

New creatures

Out of the world of 

Dreams and angels

 

Next morning

The morning of farewells

When silence gives way

To birds and dogs and roosters and humans

When silence is smashed by life

When the journey is resumed

The sound, the fury

And the love.

 

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