Sea Rescue

Hold on, don’t loose your faith, help will come. How those who struggle to survive hold it together, the stress each day, the hours of labor that bear so little fruit. From afar we read these stories, some of us wonder, some of us pray, some do something extra, the needs of others push us to extra lengths that we would not ever dare to tread. Struggles, the mother sighs, she is brow beaten, her little daughter looks on, knows her mother struggles, vows to do all she can do assist as she gets older, doing housework is all she can muster now, it’s her Mother after all. She watches while those without care pass by all day, the dress, the confident eyes, how they look down on her, it’s all stored inside. We need inspiration to hold on.

The news that two young women survived a trauma that was dangerous to say the least was uplifting for many who heard the news, and it was of course fishermen who came to the rescue at the death. Solomon sighed, there are those who are under the stress of the virus, and the warnings, while those who have had the means, just read about it. Nothing knew here, the gap between the least and the most is a ravine few will ever fill in, and those with that we call real power, will read reports from experts, and act on them, those who have a bit of a conscience will, hopefully more will recognize the signs. In this time of great trauma, there is the Spirit of God, it’s pouring out across the world, hang on, put your faith in the fisherman.

Solomon encountered the Spirit that brings great gifts, heaven sent, but as with all gifts, it requires a little sharing. when you have real proof of divine intervention, there is no human force that can ever overcome it, read the pro

phets, amen.

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Before The Virus…..

Crowds outside the halls of Justice, posters, yelling crowds, the felon is brought out, in chains, law enforcement wants to show him off, the district attorney wants to get re elected, while campaigners don’t want to miss an opportunity to increase the membership, no one wants to lose here, apart from the convicted felon. It could be Bernie, it could be anybody, it’s a good way to let them all know, you don’t get away with it anymore, right!.

Political forecasters, night and day studying the polls, reading the tweets, you said this, she said that, the spin doctors rumble through the thrash, hoping to find something damaging, anything to harm the candidate. The old bias cards are played, that will wind them up, the more dirt the better, the game hots up.

Solomon sighed, the plants co-operate with each other, the bugs get on, the birds fly cleverly, they don’t try to bump themselves off, and the human race that is watching it all, is supposed to be learning from it. At night the insects hum, during the day the birds sing, flowers lean towards the sun, while humble bees just buzz along; that can’t be too hard to imitate.

After the virus, when is this going to end, all other so called causes forgotten. The straw that broke the camels back was no heavier than the last. Solomon saw the signs, many had, the world was been watched from afar, it was a time for community driven thinking, could be learn from nature he sighed.

True Love

The power of the prophets, the foundations of every great relationship, True Love. Solomon sighed, the Heavenly Father never lets down his own, he might rebuke them, teach them, spoil them occasionally, but he always acts out of love.

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The Bird Stopped Singing

Silence in the street, the familiar hum is gone, the beat that used to fill your head, the side to side rhythm, the bird is silent, but his memory lives on.  How we take it for granted, the sound of music, birds and their tweets, the friendly smile that used to lend you a cigarette, and those conversations that went anywhere but always had meaning. There is no economic value in a bird song, there is no money in music on the street, well, you can press the button and have it automatically, why would live music matter. Solomon heard of the passing on of a good soul and friend of his, a member of the James gang, an outlaw type.  Mornings spent listening for a half hour, the requests he played, Neil Young and more, thanks he says, I’m sure your entertaining elsewhere now.

Good leaders, how the business minded only value money and nothing more, amen. There had to be a loading given to wisdom in the days ahead, the danger to the environment, the abuse of communities, the madness of celebrity culture, there are artists who inspire. Solomon reflected on the many times he heard the banjo play as he rounded the corner, and the smile it would put you his face, and the few requests he could make. It wasn’t economic the activity, but it was wisdom to support it. He had in times past, and now he could as God Most High, and expect to get a hearing, even when he wasn’t right. You never stop listening to music, thanks John.

Everything she ever wanted…

The attention, free love, the extras, lots of friends, everything she wished for, but there is still a hole inside her, that nothing material can fill, why can’t it be normal. She envies her friends, they’re normal, the boring partners, the routines they have, he leaves the bowl down, never washes the dishes, is always giving Margot their child treats, he shouldn’t spoil them that much, everyone nods and smiles, inside her heart is longing, but she knows, you can’t bring children into the world without foundations. Her friends recommend the child in a box scenario, the artificial thing, you get a list of prospects, and do it yourself. It’s not what she wanted. She retreats inside, it has to be there, the original feelings, where did they go, how do you decide. Everything she wants, it’s already inside her.

The eyes are giveaways, there is an emptiness, she is replaying the lives of old glamour queens and actors, every time she see’s them on the screen, not me hopefully she says. when i get older, i will be surrounded by those who grow with me, those who really love, is it the price of fame, well it comes with risk. I’ll get through it. The next day she decides to slow down, three months later she is on a beach, away from the attention, and herself, the way she used to be, all she ever wanted.

The Stream

Nothing tasted better than breakfast, so he thought for a long time, the ache never left him, the feeling of hunger. They had struggled together, she was social for the first five years of his life, stamps coupons and charity, amen. He passes over the fresh warm toast, his mother accepts it, she smiles, my boy she says, my boy, even if he had a father, what did it matter, she was the one who reared one. There was no music her side of the family, he had a brother who was a guitar genius, her son’s father, maybe that was where he got the talent from. From the back of the big yacht, she lapped it up, admiring her life many years later, except for the one yearning in her heart, we could have had a few of them, them, her children. She settled for one when she could have had a stream, then again, all she ever wanted was one.

 

The Child Smiles

She pushes the buggy, she’s a young mother, it has not been easy, the windows she passes, she can see but can’t afford. The boy she pushes is her two year old son, his father is a delinquent, he has left them both. The money in her pocket will feed them for a few days, cheap pizza from the discount store, sugary biscuits and a little extra, not much more. Across the street, a stranger watches, he has been sent to help, they know she is in trouble. A vulnerable young woman and child is seen as easy prey to the evil mind, easy to coerce and control. She moves on, her smile is pursed, the child giggles, they pass the sweet shop, the boy cries out, she reverses, she can’t afford it but she tries. God Most High watches, 25 trillion off shore and the same again in other places. She feels the coins in her jacket, it was the money for the milk. They enter the shop, she stands before the display, the stranger enters, bumps into her, has gentle eyes. Nice boy he says, looking at the child, the eyes light up, the boy begins to laugh, the mother is surprised, she does not often see him like that, all lit up. You dropped this he says, with a knowing smile. She can read his thoughts, really she asks, he nods again, he never forgets he says. That smile is worth billions to the boss, every time he see’s one, something good happens.

We are going to have a treat today she says out on the street, while junior plasters his face with some sticky sweets, yeah says the kid, now we are really living mom

, amen.

The Old Bishop

 

Scandal is a word, a condition of the mind, the fear we have of others, the behaviour of those we mind, the old man with a young heart, competing with the old men with no hearts, so it seems. They remember the expensive wine, the beautiful young woman, and how they fell in love, how did that happen, what a scandal they fumed.

Solomon was recalling an old warrior, who had passed to the next world, Eamon Casey is his name, a bishop who enjoyed good wine, rich company and a smile. He was sure God was welcoming him home, if only they were more humane he sighed, amen.