Rainbow in my eyes by J.K. Rowbory

This is a really great collection, full of pithy and thought-provoking images. A lot of the poems have more or less explicit “Christian” content, but they are about an authentic engagement with God not sentimental piety. There is a lot of pain and anger expressed – the healthy kind of rage against God that we often find within the psalms. There is also great tenderness too – as the last of the 4 poems I have shared shows – in it there is the subtlety of a twist in expectations of who the speaker is. And there is also humour - it is a rare and very skilful mix of moods and emotions.

Heartcry

Surely the very fabric of the universe

must be bending, must be vibrating.

Surely my pain must be felt

in the house down the street,

down the town,

down the country.

Violent shockwaves pulse out from my epicentre,

such is the intensity of my grief.

Surely something must happen,

surely there must be a response to my agony.

But my room stares back at me in silence.

Invisibly, silently,

God's arms wrap around me so closely

that the sobs that wrack my body

convulse him too.

Can't you be a magician, God?

Can't you be a magician, God,

if only for one day?

Forget about being wise and good

and do exactly what I say.

Can't out prayers be spells, God,

if only for one day?

The right words in the right order

and bingo! We'll have our way.

Make me better now, Lord.

Please no more delay.

I want to force your hand, Lord,

to make my illness go away.

He is not here

I want to go in and

smash the stained-glass windows,

chip the altar in two,

squeeze spurts of tomato ketchup

onto the walls and

stamp jam into the carpets.

I want to go in and

get some chainsaw action going

on the hard cold pews and

flamethrow the hanging banners,

chuck several cans of bright pink paint

over the heavy oak doors,

yank the clangers from their bells,

rip up the children's pictures

on the Sunday School display and

hurl after-service mugs and teacups

to shatter against the font.

He is not here.

We are his home now,

not bricks and mortar.

The rampage of Jesus' death

tore the separating curtain apart.

Christmas

You are my treasure,

my pearl beyond price.

I forsake all my riches,

my wealth in heaven,

to come and seek you out.