It was four o’clock
While searching for inspiration in what I could discuss at neXus tonight, I found myself wandering through the files on my computer. It is strange sometimes when you come across something that you wrote a while ago.
Today, I came across a poem that I had written at a spiritual retreat. The facilitator of the retreat led us in a reflection on the call of the disciples (John 1). In this passage it mentions that “it was 4′oclock”. The actual time seemed to stick in the disciples mind so much it became part of the telling of the story. The moment was so significant!
We were encouraged to write a poem or draw a picture of an event in our life that was so significant it was if time stood still.
Date written 1996
It was four o’clock!
It was the time that time stood still
The pain
The anger
The powerlessness
Life was out of control
It was the time I deflated
The hope was so far away…
So distant I could barely see it
let alone reach out and feel it.
It was the time that the clock didn’t tick
that there was nothing else
no-one else
It was simply me and
the pain, the hurt and the anger.
It was the emotional me.
It was four o’clock
when there was nothing left
no water in the well
no time on the meter
no money in the account
no petrol in the car.
How do you get me going Lord?
How did you connect with me?
How did you resource me?
How did you do it?
It was a feeling of a voice
A voice not heard but felt.
I did not listen, I sensed.
It was you Lord.
April 9th, 2003 at 12:41 pm
I’m impressed Phil. I find poetry such a demanding discipline.