First Friends Poem by Andrew C P Carnegie

First Friends

I return to an old place and old friends,
Its grey stones stand ominous henge,
Stood in a chapel that rose above the water,
Filled with well meaning, smiling sons and daughters,
Slowing realising that few know me yet seem to care,
I marvel at community, sense of being I find there,
Whilst within my anonymity, clarity of insight,
During testimony of another's plight, non-blighted,
Feeling of explanation of grace, far sighted,
A cross not carried, a cross not sought,
But a cross bridging grief, agonisingly wrought,
And I thought, choose me,
Take my nihilistic nonsense of self worth,
Throw it upon the carbonised barbecue of a city,
Take away the chains of self pity,
And through my choice, let my voice ring out,
Turn now, oh Israel, for you make again,
The same chosen calamity,
But this time Israel, you are all of humanity.


@Andrew Carnegie, Bristol Pew's, Tuesday 10th January 2017


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