So, dear Mary

So, dear Mary,
What shall we make of this?

Old as time you stand
In a cool, green, silent, place.
Suffering though time,
You're bearing the forever wound.
A womb torn for the world by
Something of fate and history.
So many stories around you,
Like little children
Tugging at your skirts.
Tales of myth and magic;
All tinged with rosy mystery.
And still,
Regardless of divinity,
Your pain goes through the years.
Bringing us, perhaps,
As close to infinity
As we shall dare to contemplate.

Contemplating Tertullian

I'm following this online course about the early Christian church. I'm not sure why really but it is interesting. Anyway today's lecture was about the church in North Africa and introduced us to Tertullian. Afterwards I felt moved to write this.

Contemplating Tertullian, born in Carthage around 160 CE. 

Tertullian - Christian apologist
A Christian apologist?
One in a long line to rant
From Paul to ...
William Lane Craig perhaps,
With his interest in divine aseity.
Aseity, I hear you say
What's that?
A being exists in and of itself.
Convenient isn't it?
And it has its positive points;
Absolute independence,
Total self-sufficiency.
Yes, that has its attractions.
But what about the negative?
Well, it's unchanging;
Incapable of change.
Now, that sounds grim.
Anyway back to Tertullian.
He, like God, was conservative.
Didn't like women much.
Thought us the gateway to the devil.
But then he thought everyone was a bit iffy.
Conceived in sin,
Each soul was bound to Satan.
Its just that we women were
Closer to the dark side.
I don't like Tertullian much,
Apologist or not.

Will Power

If I knew for sure
Would I concur
In the erosion
Of my will?
I think not.
Only suspecting,
I dismiss resisting.
Give in!
Submit!
Luxuriating
In your concept
Of a freedom.

Jelly Fish

I dream of jelly fish,
Floating softly
In a blue-grey, humid, mist.
A vast array.
A bloom of jelly on the tide.

I dream of jelly fish.

And each one has
A single eye.

An eye
Like that of an old man,
Red-rimmed,
Yellowing,
Cataract-dulled
And chill

I dream of jelly fish.
And each one has an eye,
Half-focused somewhere distant
Like the sky.

Do jelly fish dream?
Perhaps they dream
Of jelly fish Cockayne,
Lost land of watery content.
Or maybe darker places,
Painful to remember,
Like their stings.

The writer telling tales

I do not like
That you will blend the truth.

You see, I remember
What you said before.

That had the scent of truth.
This doesn't.

I do not like
You misrepresent a view
You were too quick to hold.

You said you did not like my kind.
You said it clearly.

 But now, teller of tales…

Oh now, you've changed
Oh now, you love us dearly.

We are so precious when it suits.

 Such pragmatism
 Has me squirming in my chair.

And a sickly scent of rotting fruit
Is in the air as you go global
With a lie.

Fog in the Ear

My ear was blocked.
A constant buzz,
Felt like a fly
Trapped in a drab net curtain.
Demoralizing;
Like damp, dirty, fog
Touching the face.
Deafness was the least of it.
But I couldn't hear,
Not even in my dreams.
A fuzzy head constrains.
Choice becomes impossible.
My ear was blocked.
It's better now.
The sun's not shining yet.
But, I live in hope!

Journeying

Drums beat!
I'm running,
You beside me.
I strain to breathe.
You are still cool;
Contained.
Not lost,
I'm losing it.
I hate the tunnel.
Then we're out,
As always, into trees.
The dark sky's above.
Somewhere ahead,
Another dawn!
We keep running.