Where will I go this Sabbath Day?

Where will I go this Sabbath Day?

This Sabbath Day
This Sabbath Day
Down to the meadow where the river slows.
That’s where I’ll go this Sabbath Day.

I’ll taste the water and watch it flow,
Watch it flow
Watch it flow
I’ll taste the water and watch it flow.
That’s where I’ll go this Sabbath Day.

Where will I go to sit and pray?
Sit and pray
Sit and pray
Under the willows that bend and sway.
That’s where I’ll go this Sabbath Day.

I’ll bury my toes in the earthen clay
The earthen clay
The earthen clay.
I’ll bury my toes in the earthen clay
That’s where I’ll go this Sabbath Day.

I’ll listen to God, let Him have his say.
Have His say
Have His say
I’ll listen to God, let Him have his say.
That’s where I’ll go this Sabbath Day!

Mandy Edwards © 2017

Sea Goddess

Sand disapears in rivulets
Beneath her sun-drenched legs,
As she exhales, inhales, exhales,
Deep in meditation.

She digs her toes into the ocean floor
And slowly moves her hips. Circles
Rhythmically as if orbiting the sun;
Dips into her purse with salty fingers.

An intake of breath. She moves again.
Her pulse quickening as the rising tide
Fingers her hidden crevices, hissing
And spitting like molten lava.

One last thrust of the hips, she dissolves
In a frenzy of frothing surf.
Hears nothing but her heartbeat.
Her body sated. Her mind at peace.

Startled by her aloneness,
She curls into the empty shell of herself.
And listens.
Listens to the ocean whispering her name.

Mandy Edwards (c) 2017

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A Villanelle

Cock a doodle doo.

I squeeze shut my eyes; put a pillow on my head,
It’s three in the morning and its dark outside,
Cock a doodle doo, the roosters said.

Three-thirty comes as I wriggle in bed,
The rain pelts down; all sleep is denied.
I squeeze shut my eyes; put a pillow on my head

There’s nothing to do, my book is read,
It’s four in the morning and hope has died,
Cock a doodle doo, the roosters said.

The cat is purring and its fur has shed,
My nose starts to tickle; the clock ticks, “Five,”
I squeeze shut my eyes; put a pillow on my head.

Five bloody thirty, all sleep has fled,
I’ve cursed all the pleasures of the country side,
Cock a doodle doo, the roosters said.

“It’s six.  Rise and shine,” the old man said,
He’s stone deaf and all bushy eyed.
I squeeze shut my eyes; put a pillow on my head,
Cock a doodle doo, the roosters said.

Mandy Edwards © 2017

Oyster Catcher

Comical little bird,
Drawn from a colouring book;
His bright orange beak,
Sewing holes in the seamless sand.

Drawn from a colouring book,
With a child-like hand,
Sewing holes in the seamless sand,
Searching for oysters at low tide.

With a child-like hand,
I rub my red rimmed eyes,
Searching for oysters at low tide,
While my legs turn a delicate pink.

Mandy Edwards (c) 2017

Isaiah 58.8

i

I clasp you tight

a quivering wreck of a thing

as the dawn light breaks

ii

as the dawn light breaks

watch the curve of my smile

as healing begins

iii

as healing begins
taste that sweet ambrosia
now and forever

Mandy Edwards (c) 2017