This was the subject of a poetry writing workshop at a diocesan training day. Here is my effort:
For years I carried deep within my soul
An aching void I never would admit
But filled the space with empty piety
Applauded by the professional elite.
Yet though I bore a name the hunger grew
– And empty rites quenched not my appetite –
And so I gave myself to worldly wealth
Yet searched with anxious heart to find the light.
That’s why one day I knelt down in the dirt
Before the one some claimed to be the Christ.
What did I want? I cannot rightly tell:
Approval? Challenge? Not sacrifice,
Of that I could be sure. My money was
My shield against the emptiness within,
So when He said to give it all away
I found myself confronted by my sin,
And yet too proud to yield it up to Him.
With muddied knees, therefore, I rose and passed,
While on the breeze I heard Him clearly preach:
“The last shall be the first, the first the last.”
What if back then I followed His command?
Would I be now content? I cannot know.
To others I am wise and richly blessed
And yet how much I hate this hollow show.
Abbotsbury
24 Feb 24
The writings of Revd Tim Buckley 