Thursday, October 30, 2008


"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going, I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following Your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that, if I do this, You will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust You always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone." 


Saturday, October 18, 2008

Canadian Poetry

Strong images evoked - poets arising
out of wheat fields
with the words of the French echoing around;
poets with salt in their eyebrows,
blown in from the east-coast wind.
Poets as products
of the indigenous, dark-skinned,
smooth-tongued people who bore this earth before us.
Verses, lines, and words come: a result of
the melodious language and the manner in which they sight the landscape, in
reverence, adoration, affection, intimacy.

They are our mothers.

We, their children.