Arts Articles

Source material: Angela Greenwood’s Loving Earth panel

09 September 2021 | by Angela Greenwood

Angela Greenwood’s Loving Earth panel | 'It grew into storms, forest fires and chaos. It is messy, but somehow beautiful.'

My tapestry panel for the Loving Earth Project (above) is, I think, beautiful and chaotic. For me it evokes memories of a wonderful, creative, friendly and messy learning experience, in a serene house with my tennis club friends. I want to share how it all came about.

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Come to my house

02 September 2021 | by Dana Littlepage Smith

'The footprints of Lazarus still blaze in desert dust, waiting to spark fire in imagination.' | by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

Some would number us in lost accounting piles: a wind toppled abacus of old Quakers. Our vestments of truth may be frayed to lace, the burlap of equality clotted with centuries of mistakes.

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Poem: Come to Good

26 August 2021 | by Voirrey Faragher | 2 comments

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May we, in our stillness speak to thee? In this wooden house let us bless each other         and be blessed. May we see your glory, hear your peace       in this valley of birdsong. We have waited long,       and yearned   ...

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Poem: ...passeth all understanding (Philippians 4:7)

19 August 2021 | by Stephen Yeo

'This grass, that star among and between in here, over there without membrane or integument. ' | Good Free Photos on Unsplash

Not a bit of this and that, but tarmac and vapour-trails. Every where? Everything else. This grass, that star among and between   in here, over there without membrane or integument.

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We gather

29 July 2021 | by Dana Littlepage Smith | 1 comment

'Then, we gathered each week round a broken branch of cherry, or three camellias.' | Annie Spratt @ Unsplash

Then, we gathered each week round a broken branch of cherry, or three camellias: one bruised by gusts; one infurled like the fist of an infant, another opening to perfection. Now we gather round the light of this screen: its quilt work of faces stitched by the unseen. We gather...

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Psalm for a digital age

01 July 2021 | by Harvey Gillman | 1 comment

'It could be, I know, that your silence itself was the response that I needed.' | Erik Araujo on Free Images

I sent you a message. You stopped answering a time ago. On my knees I begged to know what name you had become. Your silent laughter filled the multiverse. I consulted the address book and called again all the names I found there. I shouted, whispered, coaxed, wheedled, texted even....

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Lampedusa, October 2013

24 June 2021 | by Barbara Davey

Photo by Ibrahim Mohamed on Unsplash |

This poem is based on words spoken by divers from the Italian military and emergency services I the image I cannot shake from my mind is of those bodies packed in the wreck their eyes, and their arms held high as if calling, calling for my help we could not...

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The Raising of Lazarus

17 June 2021 | by Michael Saunders

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for Graham Shaw (1944-2021) Lazarus, hope of my spring self, held in this black earth, resting beneath the hollow of a tree. And then Yeshua finds you, his tired and tender hands reach you; and, exhausted, he pulls you from the dark, he brings you to the green warmth of...

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Seven Small Experiments with Language and Faith

10 June 2021 | by Dana Littlepage Smith | 2 comments

'Omega and Alpha sit squat on Skull Hill. As Christ dies, the dark nightof language splits like a fig.' | by Tijana Drndarski on Unsplash

For Brian Ashley of Shetland Meeting, who calls for a generosity of spirit to embrace diverse ways of expressing our experience (Letters, 28 May). 1. Omega and Alpha sit squat on Skull Hill. As Christ dies, the dark night of language splits like a fig. Faith, like dawn’s yolk gutters gold...

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Elijah’s Crossing

03 June 2021 | by Jonathan Wooding

'Clear a space there, fill the glass, sit upon the ground for Elijah, holding out his hand to the uncreated light of the mind that tarries.' | by Yingchih on Unsplash

i.m. Graham Shaw, (1944-2021), author, teacher, priest, friend There, at the footbridge, in Lublin province, Kacyzne’s* camera finds Elijah out, his cap, his waistcoat, the shod foot lifted back, crossing the river, a grey flame. And working horses (the charcoal, the chestnut), break for the silver waters running ...

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