The problem with being an atheist
The problem with being an atheist
is the lack
of imagination.
no one to talk with
when we were first begun
to share the pain
of dying
the joy of living
to delight in our first words
our singing notes
our pictures on the walls.
The problem with being an atheist
is the lack of gratitude
having no one to thank for being here
nothing to join hands with
and dance the dance of life.
The problem of being an atheist
is the lack
of creation
the determination
that we shall be
that we art that
that we are formed
with intention,
with a smile
a deliberation
that you are you
and no one else.
The problem with being an atheist
is the lack of possibilities
a world to come into being
a kingdom to be worked for
blood and sweated for
any hope of future travels
curtailed with science.
The problem with being an atheist
is the lack of mystery
why the Boudhi tree and not a palace garden,
why the woman at the well
and not a real estate agent in Vaucluse
why the air becomes the Holy Spirit
and causes us to shake a little
to grin a little
to write in the dust
and find songlines in the earth.
the problem with atheism
is the lack ...
Jorie Ryan
Passing through
(a response to Peter Goldworthy´s 'Eye of the Needle')
i
To go from this earth to the next
you can remain yourself
but your self must
travel very light.
ii
No coffers full of old customs,
no cases full of old attachments.
The have-nots, the poor in spirit
will be the only ones
who'll carry little enough.
iii
At the end of your worldly tunnel
no one will be coming towards you
to support you and your heavy head.
iv
Your heavy heart is a different matter —
it will be blessed with weighing less.
That, at least, remains of
the promise of the Light.
Frank Joussen
The new year's stars
And so, we ventured away from the lights of the house,
Away from compliments and cups of kindness sung
Into the tipsy night,
Peering into a darkness fragrant with the breath
Of lemon, eucalypt, mint and thyme.
Two paddocks away, an astrologer's dog
Was barking at the heavens,
Having caught the scent of celestial bears.
And so, as we looked up,
The cooling earth seemed to reel in the lee of Mount Sturgeon;
And, in their majesty, the stars passed in their transcendence,
Mapping our poles and times and expectations,
As randomly, it seemed, as if wild Caravaggio
Had flung his silvered dice without relent,
Exhausted only by the prospect of mundane dawn.
But, as one, spent star fumed its quiet death,
It seemed that from within the bright caravans of galaxies,
The stars, in choir, were singing of life,
And that we, whiskied, warm and staring,
Might yet become the grace notes
Within the promise of that stupendous song.
On this New Year's night
Attended at our peripheries
By fleets that trawl celestial seas
And bright caravans of lesser galaxies,
It seemed that in serried choir
The stars were singing,
And that we, small and staring upwards,
Were the grace notes within that enormous song
Grant Fraser
Jorie Ryan is an Anglican priest who lives in country NSW. She has three books published and writes of the spiritual in the everyday.
Frank Joussen teaches English and religious education at a German high school. He is a member of the international Catholic peace organisation Pax Christi. His poems and short stories in English have been published in print journals and ezines worldwide.
Grant Fraser is a lawyer, poet and filmmaker. His collection of poetry Some Conclusion in the Heart was published by Black Willow Press. His film Syllable to Sound was screened on ABC1.