Summer Seeking

Summer seeking
Somewhere over the horizon
Under a foreign sun
Under northern stars
Gazing at a stranger moon
bearing different scars
At a loss …
the Southern Cross
even the Milky Way
seem to have
all gone astray

On the Cinque Terre
On the Costa Brava
the poor boy from Australia
unplugged from Vernazza
to Barcelona
A burnt out phone
for reasons unknown
But yet,
‘Like A Rolling Stone’
out from a speaker
above the bar
The words as seen
in visions and dreams
even poetry
syncopating synchronicity
From the watchtower
watching over you
watching over me

The seconds
The minutes
This very hour
A word …
a seed set free
as in the arms
of a higher power
Children of grace
lovers of justice
knowing true mercy
I know all your needs
I know the wants
of your deepest heart
near or far …
“I am with you always”

The condition human
Lives of quiet desperation
Hope gone
Faith floundering
Watered down love
polluted and abused
Upon the ocean
plastic floating
Boats of rubber
overloaded and capsizing
Across the Mediterranean
life is drowning

At the Louvre
the Moaning Lisa
she is not amused
In a queue
tour groups du jour
all seeking a cure
through visions
of eternal perfection
That dazzling lure
Without the knowing
of the what for
the wherewithal
for what they endure
Life … and what’s more
Inwards breathing
Outwards dreaming
of beauty pure

Fellow traveller
of the token totem
and broken scheming
on a magical mystery tour
Don’t be taken
heading for a fall
Tis love true that is pure
Not the Siren’s call
Unearthly beauty
bathing in the presence
Saints and Martyrs
for honour and duty
All heroes true
Super villains and monsters
just like me and you?

Angels of man’s higher nature
Time and tide revealing
The waters disturbing
Seeking resolution
Searching for redemption
The giving …
To be living
a slow and steady salvation
Looking beyond creed and colour
Seeing the divine design
in one another

Rambling
from Tuscany to Spain
From Barcelona to Paris
riding second class
in a very fast train
Yet totally royal
in a Wi-Fi glass carriage
Walking the Rambla
Haunting littered streets
in the refugee rain
to the Café Le Titanic
next to the fish market
by the River Seine

Europa becoming
a beggar’s banquet
upon a cardboard mattress
with newspapers for a blanket
Coins collected
in a cup of plastic
Of their suffering
I know nothing
Their plight
on the road of flight
Fleeing their ancestral home
in peril of weapons chemical
and barrel bombs blown
In that refugee rain
soaked to the heartbroken bone
With dictators dictating
is freedom ever a choice?
The ghosts of vengeful justice
present and past
all given full voice

I know nothing
of their pain
behind a veil torn by war
Reaching for the light
to where freedom
is a hard won right
Liberté Égalité Fraternité
How could they ever
know the score
to find the open door
whilst held firm
in the shackles
of some Neolithic law?
From desert track
to rainforest ruin
under the shadow
of a crescent moon
Who is calling the shots?
Who is playing the tune?
The West’s freedom of expression
seen dimly by those who
detest and choose to use it
as a licence for hateful action
Is modern history
again to be written
by the blood soaked victors
of divisive
and archaic religion?

This world divided
and out of order
Razor wire fences
at the militarized border
From Saint Peter’s Basilica
to Notre Dame Cathedral
camouflaged soldiers on patrol
From Chicago to Aleppo
violence gone viral
Who is pushing the buttons ?
Who is making the choices?

Under layers of graffiti
crumbling into dust
former glories of Empire
coming home to roost
“Excusez – moi”
a big stash of cash
I don’t have
All I can do is say
beyond tradition
and old religion
we all need
a new testament
complete with
a Love Resurrection
For God so loved the world
that He sent us the way
We have His Word
Be under His sway
The longing within
as if to say,
“Be belonging to Him
For we too can be heroes
forever … and a day”

~ by david redpath © 2017

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Photography;
David & Linda redpath © 2017

43 thoughts on “Summer Seeking”

  1. Oh GOD: David. This one made me sob. As it should all of us. Just SOB. I ask, all the time, where Resurrection is. I mean…TRUE resurrection. Resurrection is in me, in you, in the God in US. But where has He GONE? Love. We need LOVE. For a better world. For a better world.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ‘Will I ever learn
      that there’ll be no peace,
      that the war won’t cease
      Until He returns ?
      Like a thief in the night,
      he’ll replace wrong with right
      When he returns.’
      ~ Bob Dylan

      In the meantime, BeeZeeGee,
      I guess it’s up to us.

      Liked by 3 people

      1. It is, David. Sadly, most don’t realise that the thing for which we seek is in our own hands. We long for it, we say, yet how many are prepared to love enough to bring about the heart’s desire?

        Liked by 2 people

  2. “(good) reason to get excited
    The thief (s)he kindly spoke
    There are many here among us
    Who feel that life is but a joke
    But, uh, but you and I, we’ve been through that
    And this is not our fate
    So (please keep talkin’ truly) now
    The hour’s getting late, hey…”
    So beautiful. Pulled me in, touched my heart, reminded me of core truths. Thank you David. And thank you Linda — I love the photos, too. I have never been to Paris, but it feels like I visited a little bit this morning. Le sigh. “Paris is always a good idea,” so Audrey says. ♥.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I believe that conversation,
      between the joker and the
      thief, was actually Bob Dylan
      talking to himself, somewhere
      within a guarded facility.
      But don’t tell anyone I said that, Niki.
      It could be a private affair.
      Like Sabrina, the school girl,
      returning from Paris as
      Audrey Hepburn.
      Travel broadens the mind,
      they say. I try to stick to the
      straight and narrow, like a
      loosened arrow.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Really? I won’t tell but it’s fascinating to think of it. Sabrina is my fave Hepburn I think. I hope to see Paris some day, especially the Louvre ! – but, for now I’m content to do it vicariously. Really cool poem comment. It’s not easy to be spontaneously creative. ♥.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Ha! You read my mind re combustion. It’s so like that sometimes. Too bad I gave up cigs (not) – I’d have the required combo for a creative storm today – coffee, smokes, very little sleep and great conversation! =) ♥.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Oh Dail’s in DC.
        I’d leave the Louvre too
        to find those two.
        Meanwhile…
        1 Rue de la Légion d’Honneur, 75007 Paris, France
        for Femme au balcon and La Buveuse d’absinthe
        and (wow) 88 Monet.
        Yay for Musée d’Orsay.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank you for sharing your trips and thoughts that go with. At the very end, that god has sent us the way, through his words. Well I see it as god threw us away in this Hunger Games roman coliseum style. Really thought provoking, as usual. I imagine you writing this on a train, while travelling.

    Liked by 1 person

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