Number 2-0638


My hollow eyes still bleed
For those who will not come
Kneel and wonder now
Upon another’s door,
Behind my cold facade
An aching heart still loves
Arrhythmic sleepless pulse
Beats to an ancient tune.
Within my hallowed shell
Your memories I hold
Like children to the breast
And secrets never told
To me your eyes are blind
My tears are mine alone
And still I wait in vain
For those who will not come.

Poem by Chris Nelson at chrisnelson61

Image by Christine Renney and many thanks for the gift of these words to Chris N from Chris R


Number 2-0615

Image by Christine Renney

Mark and I often drive out into the Fens which is like visiting another country – reclaimed from the sea, roads that move because of what is below them, canals which rise up to your left and right, yards above your head. We came across the church in a village called Guyhirn. There appear to be no graves in what was the churchyard. It was bleak and dark.


DSC_0632This gentleman is a Franciscan monk – we have never seen them before in Bradford but this last trip we saw two monks.  Their church is right next door to the Islam Centre in the city, which I think is what a multicultural society is about and shows a positive and healthy attitude to different belief systems, if you participate in any.  He was very charming, an American, and spoke with us for a short while about his church.  After we parted a company another couple asked us what he had told us – they live in Bradford but have never wanted to approach any of the monks they see.  Odd to me because I will talk to (almost) anyone.