Paraplegia?
Surprise in the tone as a friend is caught off-guard...
Did I miss something? she thinks with confusion.
Ahem.... he couldn’t use his right arm or right leg.
Oh - of course!
Mental adjustments as realisation hits home.
What is your identity?
Is it caught up in the scars on your face?
Is it found in your hair cut or colour?
Who are you?
Mr Ambidextrous?
Do not define me by cancer!
Or disability!
Or gender!
I am Child of God.
I am Reflection of Creator.
I am Delight and Joy.
I am Lover and Beloved.
I am Wonder and Wonder-fully made.
I am Community and Bearer of Heart.
I am Edges and Centre.
I am AND I am of the I AM.
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
Tuesday, 25 February 2020
Sunday, 23 February 2020
Evocation #67 Again and again
I meet you again,
A friend from ages past,
A well-wisher,
A person who has prayed for my distress.
I come to comfort,
To tell me or show me your compassion.
You take the time and offer the gift
Of acknowledgement.
I spend a lot of my energy these days
‘holding it together’...
It’s ok to cry -
but it incredibly inconvenient
if you have to deliver a report or two...
A kind friend, one who has been to this place,
Asks the key question:
When do you miss him most?
The morning - first thing,
When we could cuddle in bed, drink a cuppa,
Pray together, plan the day.
He reminded me of purpose and work,
foci to keep the days in order...
Reasons to get up -
because your need something now.
He shared the experience of being able to shout.
How wonderful to be able to cry out
to stars and sun,
to trees and paddocks,
To eternal witnesses
Of love and longing.
This story is not only mine,
although it is deeply personal.
It is the human story
of the consequence of love...
Dear Bard, you wrote of love and loss,
So perhaps you shared it too -
the joy and despair of humanity?
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
A friend from ages past,
A well-wisher,
A person who has prayed for my distress.
I come to comfort,
To tell me or show me your compassion.
You take the time and offer the gift
Of acknowledgement.
I spend a lot of my energy these days
‘holding it together’...
It’s ok to cry -
but it incredibly inconvenient
if you have to deliver a report or two...
A kind friend, one who has been to this place,
Asks the key question:
When do you miss him most?
The morning - first thing,
When we could cuddle in bed, drink a cuppa,
Pray together, plan the day.
He reminded me of purpose and work,
foci to keep the days in order...
Reasons to get up -
because your need something now.
He shared the experience of being able to shout.
How wonderful to be able to cry out
to stars and sun,
to trees and paddocks,
To eternal witnesses
Of love and longing.
This story is not only mine,
although it is deeply personal.
It is the human story
of the consequence of love...
Dear Bard, you wrote of love and loss,
So perhaps you shared it too -
the joy and despair of humanity?
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
Friday, 21 February 2020
Evocation #66 Heaven
Do you spare a thought?
In your fascination among the blessed, is there room for earthy things?
Do you wonder as you discover, old and new and a deeper reality?
Are you partying with friends, in joyful fulfillment?
How can you celebrate while we are here?
I have friends too - together we toss between cries and comforts.
We call and message, sending gentle encouragements,
for truly nothing but gentle works anymore...
Strength left to go with you.
I prepare for a busy week on earth
and dream of heaven.
I hope there is music,
solos and orchestras,
lots of angel choruses...
Do we get to sing along?
I ready myself for the day,
Wishing you could send
just a little heaven my way.
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
In your fascination among the blessed, is there room for earthy things?
Do you wonder as you discover, old and new and a deeper reality?
Are you partying with friends, in joyful fulfillment?
How can you celebrate while we are here?
I have friends too - together we toss between cries and comforts.
We call and message, sending gentle encouragements,
for truly nothing but gentle works anymore...
Strength left to go with you.
I prepare for a busy week on earth
and dream of heaven.
I hope there is music,
solos and orchestras,
lots of angel choruses...
Do we get to sing along?
I ready myself for the day,
Wishing you could send
just a little heaven my way.
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
Evocation #65 Separation
Throughout the ages, husbands and wives have been separated, not by choice, but by circumstances. War, poverty, work, migration, seeking refuge - all these may see couples in different places, unable to communicate, anxious for one another. This is for them.
.................................
On the train from Parramatta to Sydney City...
A lone woman wears her scarf and stares into an unknown world.
What does she see with those sad and longing eyes?
Does she see her handsome lover?
Does she see the food served in production lines of tastelessness?
Does she see him washing his own clothes and folding his own socks?
Does she remember when she could do these things for him?
... not because she was a woman, but because he was her man.
Her body is hidden under long and flowing garments,
As is her soul.
She bears a weight of solitude in this carriage of many.
A busy man leaps onto the train,
catching the pole to balance himself and swings into a seat.
Quickly, he pulls off his sedate necktie,
rolls it carefully for storage in backpack.
From same storage emerges a polo shirt,
logo-ed for delivery.
Bike clips for trousers applied and adjusted.
Ready now for the next job.
One day, he may have enough to get her here.
With a few moments to himself,
He closes his eyes,
sees her face,
the contours of her neck,
hears her tender alto,
smells her warmth...
Each separation of stars in the sky
sees them chasing each other
in endless cycles of nights between days.
Time passes as daily life continues
And loneliness turns into surrogate companion.
When do stars collide?
Only at the end of time?
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
.................................
On the train from Parramatta to Sydney City...
A lone woman wears her scarf and stares into an unknown world.
What does she see with those sad and longing eyes?
Does she see her handsome lover?
Does she see the food served in production lines of tastelessness?
Does she see him washing his own clothes and folding his own socks?
Does she remember when she could do these things for him?
... not because she was a woman, but because he was her man.
Her body is hidden under long and flowing garments,
As is her soul.
She bears a weight of solitude in this carriage of many.
A busy man leaps onto the train,
catching the pole to balance himself and swings into a seat.
Quickly, he pulls off his sedate necktie,
rolls it carefully for storage in backpack.
From same storage emerges a polo shirt,
logo-ed for delivery.
Bike clips for trousers applied and adjusted.
Ready now for the next job.
One day, he may have enough to get her here.
With a few moments to himself,
He closes his eyes,
sees her face,
the contours of her neck,
hears her tender alto,
smells her warmth...
Each separation of stars in the sky
sees them chasing each other
in endless cycles of nights between days.
Time passes as daily life continues
And loneliness turns into surrogate companion.
When do stars collide?
Only at the end of time?
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
Thursday, 20 February 2020
Evocation #64 Hold On
In exhaustion, I lay myself down
But cannot sleep,
For you are no longer providing the calm rhythm for breath,
Nor the warm comfort of holding me and being held.
The quilt wraps me in the love of others and I am held.
It helps to know of the prays prayed in other homes.
Texts come from different quarters, unexpected,
and all the more blessing for that.
But cannot sleep,
For you are no longer providing the calm rhythm for breath,
Nor the warm comfort of holding me and being held.
The quilt wraps me in the love of others and I am held.
It helps to know of the prays prayed in other homes.
Texts come from different quarters, unexpected,
and all the more blessing for that.
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
Tuesday, 18 February 2020
Evocation #63 Honorary queer and honouring stories
When I was invited to offer culturally diverse bible studies for a ‘Daring’ Conference in Melbourne, Terry came with me and we were granted the titles of ‘honorary queer’. This was both respectful and humbling.
About 9 weeks after Terry’s death, I accompanied a friend to go to a performance of Queer Stories at the Riverside Theatre. There was a moment when I observed one of the members of the audience. She was young and had a beautiful blue Mohawk. My friend grabbed my hand and held it tightly.
Friendship moved swiftly into pastoral rescue.
My friend understood.
My heart had stopped and my breathing was shallow.
I could not think.
I was frozen in a moment of eternity/
My friend squeezed my hand,
Grounding me in this time and place,
not letting me escape into oblivion.
I delighted in her youth and my perception of her innocence.
Yet, if she was at this performance,
she probably already had too much life experience,
tucked away into her soul.
In some ways, she carried his confidence...
So few people can really wear a bright blue Mohawk!
I miss his confidence,
his embrace of life and daily wisdom.
I miss his engagement with complete strangers,
The way he would strike up conversations of significance,
life-changing conversations, influential moments,
likely to impact the directions of the world.
I realise that in my heart,
I believe he was God’s agent -
responsible for spinning the world
and contributing energy and life to others.
I know God has other agents.
Indeed, there is a great long list of characters,
People of spirit and purpose...
He joins them in the great cloud of witnesses.
We rest upon the heritage they have given to us.
So my present relies on the past.
Whenever I see blue hair
and whenever someone comments on mine,
I recollect how he would respond
And engage in interactions for life.
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
About 9 weeks after Terry’s death, I accompanied a friend to go to a performance of Queer Stories at the Riverside Theatre. There was a moment when I observed one of the members of the audience. She was young and had a beautiful blue Mohawk. My friend grabbed my hand and held it tightly.
Friendship moved swiftly into pastoral rescue.
My friend understood.
My heart had stopped and my breathing was shallow.
I could not think.
I was frozen in a moment of eternity/
My friend squeezed my hand,
Grounding me in this time and place,
not letting me escape into oblivion.
I delighted in her youth and my perception of her innocence.
Yet, if she was at this performance,
she probably already had too much life experience,
tucked away into her soul.
In some ways, she carried his confidence...
So few people can really wear a bright blue Mohawk!
I miss his confidence,
his embrace of life and daily wisdom.
I miss his engagement with complete strangers,
The way he would strike up conversations of significance,
life-changing conversations, influential moments,
likely to impact the directions of the world.
I realise that in my heart,
I believe he was God’s agent -
responsible for spinning the world
and contributing energy and life to others.
I know God has other agents.
Indeed, there is a great long list of characters,
People of spirit and purpose...
He joins them in the great cloud of witnesses.
We rest upon the heritage they have given to us.
So my present relies on the past.
Whenever I see blue hair
and whenever someone comments on mine,
I recollect how he would respond
And engage in interactions for life.
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
Evocation #62 Anniversaries
At death plus two months,
I poured a glass of wine.
I moved your shirts to the other cupboard.
I emptied your backpack.
I talked to the kids.
I wept.
I go to work and tell people honestly
It is good to be back - for it is...
But it costs a lot to be civil and social
when all i want to do is curl up and sob.
I celebrated two years of working with my colleagues.
There has been some shifting around.
I try to find a new rhythm, based on what I think I know.
tough - everything is new again... nothing feels the same
and instinct has disappeared, gone walkabout.
Valentine’s Day came and went.
I bought myself some chocolate.
I ration myself kindly.
I brought the Campus Reception flowers home
Having won the fundraising bid.
I have to act as if I love myself now
and trick myself into thinking
that self-love will do.
And so I face that year people talk about,
Of birthdays and anniversaries.
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
I poured a glass of wine.
I moved your shirts to the other cupboard.
I emptied your backpack.
I talked to the kids.
I wept.
I go to work and tell people honestly
It is good to be back - for it is...
But it costs a lot to be civil and social
when all i want to do is curl up and sob.
I celebrated two years of working with my colleagues.
There has been some shifting around.
I try to find a new rhythm, based on what I think I know.
tough - everything is new again... nothing feels the same
and instinct has disappeared, gone walkabout.
Valentine’s Day came and went.
I bought myself some chocolate.
I ration myself kindly.
I brought the Campus Reception flowers home
Having won the fundraising bid.
I have to act as if I love myself now
and trick myself into thinking
that self-love will do.
And so I face that year people talk about,
Of birthdays and anniversaries.
© A A Koh-Butler, 2020
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