When you are thirsty

Haiku for parched souls

When you are thirsty

and someone gives you water,

you take it gladly.

A surprise meeting;

the Samaritan woman

and the Jewish man.

The well: this image

of life splashed with hope, purpose,

and filled with spirit.

Life, not limited

by all the negative stuff;

full and unconstrained.

Drink this life, woman,

man, child; all of you who yearn

for truth and fullness.

The hour is coming

for all the true worshippers

to reveal themselves.

What will be the sign,

how will we recognise them?

One thing; by their love.

I know that he comes,

the Messiah sent from God.

He is with you now.

Go, tell the city,

don’t keep this news to yourself;

others also thirst.

© Ken Rookes 2020

Difficult words

Haiku of offence.

Eating and drinking,

taking my life deep within;

they abide in me,

They will always live,

nor will their deeds be forgot,

alive in God’s heart.

Difficult teachings,

who can accept them? Even

disciples struggle.

From the spirit comes

true life; the flesh is useless.

Believe in my words.

Many disciples

turned back. His words were too hard,

the way was too tough.

He questioned the twelve:

Do you also wish to leave,

is it all too hard?

Where else can we go?

said Peter. Your words are life;

you have come from God.

© Ken Rookes 2018

But among you are some who do not believe

He was being kind.

Even among those who so eagerly sing

his songs, wear

his shining silver jewellery, don

his tee-shirts, and who grumble

self-righteously that the fabric of society

has been irreparably torn;

there are many of us

who will not allow ourselves to believe.

We do not eat the body;

the blood we do not drink.

The precisely cubed crumb of bread,

the broken wafer,

the fragment torn from a loaf;

the silver chalice,

the cup of wine,

the tiny glass of grape juice,

hygienically prepared, red and sweet;

these safe things we will consume

in neat and reassuring patterns.

We fear the bread that is his words,

irregular, wild and costly;

having nibbled at the edge

we shall leave it our plates.

The cup of his outpouring;

we sipped cautiously, tasted its bitter draught

and determinedly placed it to one side.

His difficult words invite us to dine upon him,

to take life deep within our own;

and allow his being to be woven into ours.

Thus we receive his generous life,

crimson with sorrow, love and weeping.

Take courage; eat and drink, he whispers

once more.

© Ken Rookes 2012

So it is we eat

So Jesus said to them, "Very truly, I tell you,

 unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man

 and drink his blood, you have no life in you. John 6:53 

So it is we eat

of the body bread

and sip on grape-juice blood;

gathered old and young around the table,

praying earnestly

and trusting in gracious promises

that the life of our Lord might be found in us.

So it is I eat

longing to be filled;

knowing here is strength

for an uncomfortable journey

and the Cervantes-impossible quest

that awaits those foolish enough to believe

that the darkness has been overcome

and red life abounds sufficient for all.

So it is I eat

and drink of mysterious life

alone at tables of uncertainty

and in places of doubt,

when questions overwhelm

and all I am left with is the story of a man

bleeding with stretched-out arms

suspended in embrace, whispering in promise

that his life will be found in me.