High Force

High Force 1

High Force, Teesdale

Stand below the waterfall,
See the flow from way on high,
Washing, cleansing all within,
Till the rivers all run dry.

Where the place where rivers go?
To the seas the waters send.

Where the source of endless flow?
Rainclouds pouring without end.

Stand beneath the shower’s feed,
Close your eyes, and bow your head,
As the waters wash your soul,
Feel your troubles being shed.

Hang your arms and let your woes
To the seas with waters go.
Yet recall from up above
Flows great love to us below.

As our worries waters cleanse,
Washing sorrows far away,
Think, just as with waterfalls,
So this grace is here to stay.


I don’t normally comment on anything religious or political. This is deliberate. It’s not because I don’t have strong feelings about such things; those who know me are well aware of my belief system. My choice not to comment on such things is based on my belief that they are better discussed face to face. That way, there can be no misunderstanding based on interpretation of the written word, and such misunderstanding will not lead to hurt feelings. Facial expressions and gestures add so much to a discussion.

However, no matter what we believe, most people feel a sense of gratitude and responsibility to a higher power. Some look to God, in whatever form they see him. Others feel that they owe much to their parents, mentors, etc. Whatever we believe, we have this sense of responsibility and gratitude to a higher power, regardless of the form of that power. We can learn much from those with less experience than ourselves.

For example, I don’t believe that my doctor and I are any better than each other. Yet I am grateful for his superior knowledge of human anatomy, health, and fitness. I don’t believe that my bank manager and I are any better than each other. But I am grateful that she can take a dispassionate look at my finances. I don’t believe that my mother, my children, my grandchildren, and I are any better than each other. Yet I am grateful for the lessons that we learn from each other, almost on a daily basis.

It’s the same with whatever power we rely on to help us cleanse ourselves from the toxic effects of the world around us. Life, today, can be so stressful, if we allow it to be. A few minutes with head bowed and arms hanging whilst allowing the shower to pour over us can help us feel those stresses fading so that we can face another day. It is one more way to meditate mindfully.

But we must be ever aware of that higher power on which we rely. Because without it we would be lost.

She Sleeps

Moon 100130 Web

She sleeps,
Drifting on through her dreams
Of lives that could have been,
Places she could have seen.

She sleeps.
Visions of the night-time
Blending subconscious thoughts
Into reality.

She sleeps,
Restless, as the views change
From what she knows is true
To scenes filled with wonder.

She sleeps,
Yet listens for the cries
Of children in the night,
In case they need comfort.

She sleeps.
Moon drifts across the sky,
Passing by her window,
Shining into her dreams.

She sleeps,
Gentle breathing signals
Pause for deeper slumber;
Needed for well-being.

She sleeps,
The worries of the day,
Laid to rest with the stars,
Resolved, effortlessly.

She sleeps,
Stirs, as dawn is breaking,
Knowing the new day brings
Its worries and trials.

She sleeps,
Gains energy to face
The day’s anxieties
With grace and dignity.

She sleeps,
Yet still she feels his arm
Curling close around her;
Draws them ever closer.

She wakes,
And lies there to enjoy
The warmth of his body
As his embrace tightens.

She sighs,
Contented with her life;
A life that never seems
The same as in her dreams.

No Regrets

Rain that washes o’er my soul
And hides the tears
Rolling down my cheeks
Each time I think of you
And the way things were
Before I knew you.

Are you still the same person
I met, and loved, and married?
Do you still think of me
With longing?
Is there still a place for me
In your heart?

I see you there,
I watch and stare.
Do you still see me?
Do you gaze at what is?
Or at what was
When love was new?

Life moves on
And we move with it.
Changes no man
Could foresee
Turning hair grey
And muscles to jelly.

All those years
Fighting back tears.
And why?
Did it make a difference
To the way we felt;
To the way we feel?

Would life have been so different
If love had not smiled upon us?
Would there be regrets
That could not be assuaged?
Would love have hidden
All our faults and failings?

Then came the children.
Fun and laughter,
Tears and sorrow,
Pain and pleasure
Mixed in tiny packages
That needed love and comfort.

No time for us.
No time to sit and talk.
Tiredness
Takes over our lives
As we suppress our needs
In favour of those who need us more.

And so it goes.
Time’s relentless journey
Marches on.
The children grow
And meet their own loves
And leave an empty nest.

What is there left to say?
Is it time for reflection?
Time to sit and wallow in our past?
Time to grieve what once was ours
But which no longer stirs emotions?
Is this our time?

Oh no. Not us.
Our interests have developed
In different directions.
What, now, do we have
In common with the way we were?
What is there left to talk about?

We’ve changed,
You and I.
We’re not the same;
Not the same people
Who met, and loved,
And married.

We’ve grown and learned
So many different things.
Money-making.
Home-making.
Do we long for that which used to be?
Oh no. Not you and I.

So now I sit
As raindrops wash my soul
And hide the tears
Rolling down my cheeks,
Washing away
The memories.

And you sit with me.
Still here, still faithful
To each other.
Oh how we’ve changed
For the better
Since first we met.

I see it in your eyes that you remember
The boy you met, and loved and married;
The boy who stole your heart
And gave you his in return.
And I remember you the way you were.
And all that came to test our love.

Unbreakable love
That stands the test of time.
I reach for your hand and there we sit,
Raindrops washing over our souls,
Hiding the tears
Of love and joy with no regrets.

Tram Road, Swansea

Tram Road

What once was busy,
Resting, now, from endless toil.
Tourist attraction.

The old tram road at Clyne woods in Swansea has now been redeveloped as a cycle track designated as Route 4 by Sustrans.

The route links London with Fishguard, in South West Wales, which is one of the departure points for the ferry to Ireland. It means that environmentally friendly and health-conscious tourists can cycle all the way, except for the ferry crossing.

Part of the tram road has been left in place as a tribute to the industrial and coal heritage of South Wales.

Heritage is one thing that gives us a sense of identity. Maybe preserving everything is not practical. But the memories will serve us well.