Small Scriptures (Poetry)

I treasure everything you have written down —
hoard a multitude of scraps
those hurried jottings the essence of your belief
the grand designs worked and re-worked —
such a labour of intense love
revision after revision and new ideas emerging
all the time. No definitive version yet
the appendices keep growing.

Condensed as a miniature bible
your sacred words find their own voice
chiming from the pulpit page
talk of fresh parables — wishes into fiction
and heroes in the images of gods.
Illuminated, the mind accepts their being
converted — brought down from the mountaintop
proclaimed like an unravelling mystery.

Dedicated to the recording angel — the scribe
who collected chapters, ordered little faiths
and dropped in miracles sweet as blood-red wine
these texts mix modern language with translation’s song.
I hear their rhythms — count the beats
as they echo down the days. Your truth speaks out
through each small scripture layered real with life
and glimpses of that work-in-progress heaven.