At our monthly online Praying Without Words gathering we reflected on this poem by Ann Lewin:
Cloud of witnesses
What if time is not a continuous line,
But a series of concentric circles.
The human life would not be,
As for Bede’s sparrow, a matter of
Flying into the light for a brief period
On a long migration from darkness to
Darkness. More like an appearance
In a vast arena, where all the actors
Play their part under brilliant lights,
Then fade into the auditorium, beyond the glare,
Making space for new arrivals.
We laugh and love, and struggle to make sense of
Half a script, finding the writing
Difficult to read, frustrated in our effort
By the inability of others
To get their lines right, or their sheer
Obstructiveness: ad-libbing our way
Out of difficult situations,
Rejoicing when all goes well.
And all those around us, those who
Have had their turn, or
Wait in trepidation for their cue,
Watch, supporting us with sympathetic
Tears or laughter, urging us on
In loving fellowship.
Then, when the play is over,
And the lights go up,
We shall meet them, and have time,
Or will it be eternity, to enjoy
Their company. Time too to meet the Author,
And discuss our part, learning the value of
Our contribution, which had never been in doubt
In his mind, only in our faltering confidence
- Ann Lewin
In response Joy Tobler wrote the following:
OUR EYES FOR HIM ALONE
“And when the play is over
And the lights go up” * . . .
All eyes will be on the blazing glory
of the One seated on the throne
at the centre of the universe.
Our eyes will not be looking around us,
not searching for those we have known and loved;
only the love of the Beloved matters,
and He is everything.
Our eyes receive the love in His eyes –
the love which says, “Well done, My love.”
Our eyes gaze into His and know
the warmth of His embrace.
Our eyes shine with our undiluted worship
and adoration of our Lord and Lover,
and the beauty of being in His Presence
for ever.
- Joy Tobler
*From ‘Cloud of Witnesses’ by Ann Lewin
We none of us know what lies beyond this life. These two poems take different perspectives on this. What do you think?