What I Actually Wrote

I posted a first draft of this poem a couple of weeks back; here is what might (you never really quite know) might be the finished version . . .

As I shape the memories that jostle within me,
and form them into seasons and stories, I find
I am liberated into relationship. And together
we learn to persevere, to walk the hard road, and
each to accept as our own the mirrored face we see.
Together we trace our way forward, frame our ‘yes’ to life.

What we pass on as we meet is important, it has
a significance we may not realise, a consistent truth,
even as the stories change in the telling,
and as they are heard. Our memory
and imagination have transforming power; so we discover
new ways to belong together, new journeys to take.

And a dark place may not always be a bad place;
we are formed, made, remade, by our fractures
and our failures. This is discipleship in process,
where challenge and gift reach a new and creative
balance in our lives, within our souls, and where by grace
even in our falling we may find new springs of hope.

And as we walk together with him Emmaus lies ahead,
all golden in the setting sun. Here is where our paths
must diverge, for he tells us he must travel on.
But first we shall sit together; and bread is broken, and
the cup of wine passed round; and here we are named,
claimed and freed by his ‘yes’ that is for ever.