The Ordinary - Poem by James Tipp
I saw a holy man in a holy place
Holy separate and content to be with God.
I called him but he saw me not, nor heard me.
I looked again the radiance of his face shone
His face a picture of peace and joy, I called
He never turned but gazed into the far place.
I waited for a while hoping to meet with him
But he remained entranced, unable to respond.
I met a man in a pub who spoke of God,
He spoke to me above the radios blare
Amongst the noise and hubbub of the lunches
He spoke of God and the things of God to me
Surrounded by the profane and transience of life
His face held no special light or grace or peace
Just a simple man in a simple place sharing
God found me there amongst the ordinary.
I met Holy women veiled and serene
Her every gesture marked her out as ‘other’
She neither glanced or stared, she was.
I sought a way to engage with her, make contact
But she was never there in the space with me
She was floating in a space with God alone
I longed to know her secret find her truth
She lingered in the cloister gazing heavenward.
I met a woman at a dance, dressed in red
Her lips reflected the colour of her clothes
Her nails polished to perfection red talons
She spoke of God between the dances
Between the music and the alco pops
Her figure models dreamed of, she dreamed of God
Spoke of God in this place of entertainment
God spoke to me and found me there in the ordinary.
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