You shall plant vineyards

 Haiku of restoration

Everlasting love.

The stuff that matters. From God.

All else falls away.

The time is coming

When I’ll reclaim my people;

I will be their God

They survived the sword,

found grace in the wilderness;

the Lord came to them.

Such big promises;

God’s faithfulness continues.

Nothing can stop it.

My people are lost;

in love I shall restore them;

I’ll build them again.

Take your tambourines

and dance in celebration;

our God is with us!

You shall plant vineyards

on Samaria’s mountains

and gather the fruit.

On Ephraim’s hillsides

they’ll call: ”Let’s go to Zion

to worship the Lord”

© Ken Rookes

Joy and singing

Haiku for a blooming desert

When God’s Redeemed come

back to Zion, deserts burst

forth with joy and song.

The celebration;

a measure of God’s glory,

here, with God’s people.

Be strong, do not fear;

your God is here. God will come

and God will save you.

Blind eyes will open

and deaf ears will be unstopped.

The lame leap like deer!

In the wilderness

water will spring up, and streams

flow in the desert.

Life will be God’s gift

in the desert, and among

people ev’ry where.

God will make a way

for the faithful. To a realm

of safety and hope.

The song continues

with God’s people rejoicing

in God’s grace and love.

© Ken Rookes 2022

When the wine gave out

Those things that have grown weary

and no longer serve their purpose,

are to be cast aside;

their place will be taken

by the eager and determined.

The caterers' miscalculations

threaten to bring the nuptial celebrations

to a premature conclusion.

Water's cold austerity

gives way to wine by the bucketful;

joy flows abundant and free,

and the party continues.

The attendant throng is suitably amazed;

the man's mother, who provoked the action,

is merely impressed.

In the hands of her son

the wedding feast is made into

the metaphor par excellence:

life that is fruitful and expectant,

filled with hope, joy,

and laden with possibility.

© Ken Rookes 2016

Cana

Gospel writer John springs a miracle

to get things going. It’s a strange one,

a classic conundrum: water into wine.

Fortunately the miracle was never replicated

by Jesus, or any of his followers since.

In every age there have been those

who reached out to grasp

the dubious gift of drunken oblivion,

but they all managed to do so

by more conventional means.

Let’s quietly pack the miracle away,

let it age and gather dust in the cellar;

it proves nothing, never did.

The coming together of two people,

pledging their love and devotion

and becoming one flesh,

is made the occasion for this story

of joyous and abundant celebration.

Jesus, Word made flesh,

is both purpose and provider

for the party.

Buckets of water into buckets of wine;

dance until you drop!

Glorious excess;

there are no limits to joy.

Human existence has been unexpectedly infused

with something far more wondrous

than any mere miracle.

Jesus from the divine parent’s heart;

bearer of grace and truth,

and shining his light into the darkness,

lives among us.

Pour some wine: we have to celebrate!

© Ken Rookes 2013

Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

Arise, my love,

my fair one, and come away.

The wattle has dressed in yellow merriment,

the sundew proffers its delicate whiteness;

and the leopard orchid, tiny, but persistent,

emerges to glorify its maker.

Arise, my love,

my fair one, and come away.

Ride upon the song of the wattle bird

as it rejoices in the sun’s gleaming victory

over morning’s fog,

and in the promise of warmth.

Arise my love,

my fair one, and come away.

Unshackle earth’s anchors

to sing, to dance, to delight, to play;

to lose yourself in the great mystery.

Join with birds and kings,

old women, children, and all whose hearts

have been warmed from above;

join in the defiant trek to freedom,

the soaring flight of beauty,

love’s aching splendour,

and the unexpectedness of joy.

Arise, my love,

Arise, my love,

Arise, my love,

my fair one, and come away.

© Ken Rookes

The stable

Strangers are smiling,

it must be Christmas.

We wish each other well,

and wonder where the year has gone.

In recent years some houses,

seeking to upstage their neighbours,

have burst into twinkling light

with trees, bearded gentlemen

and flying reindeer; some

even affect a religious interest.

Others remain with blinds drawn,

meditating in the dark stillness.

Perhaps, deep within their recesses,

and inmost crevices, these houses

have heard the story of the child

born to rule over all creation

with humble love. Maybe

they dream of the stable,

the unassuming shed, chosen

ahead of other dwellings.

It has become an exalted place

where poor people, dumb animals,

and the almighty God

find their home.

© Ken Rookes

You will receive power

When the Holy Spirit comes upon you,

then understanding will begin

and you will know what I have said is true.

When the Holy Spirit comes upon you,

then you will see the narrowness

of mortal truth,

you will be humbled

by the limitations of human institutions,

you will laugh at the stumbling attempts

to confine the Almighty

in neat religious boxes.

When the Holy Spirit comes upon you

you may leap and dance with joy,

you may shout in exultation;

you may beat drums,

paint rainbows,

enact mysteries,

create silences of prayer

or dare circuses of dreams.

When the Holy Spirit comes upon you,

there is much that you will want to discard,

that, in freedom’s name,

you may witness, worship

and love.

© Ken Rookes