Phillip Medhurst

Wisdom from a Gnostic Sage

He Descended into Hell


He Descended into Hell

Phillip Medhurst

He Descended into Hell


My heart goes down to Hell with him,

Though I must shut my eyes

To what he sees. I fear the dark,

But trail with quiet tread

Lest he looks back,

And weakening, lets me cling to him.


For he has work to do within

That senseless void, and I

Must be a hovering thing and hope

That he will see the light

Again, and say

That unmade, made again, is good.


Mater Dolorosa


The pains of childbirth, then of dispossession,

A leaping heart, then steady retrogression

Was all angelic flutters came to bring.

Fair salutations bore a farewell sting.


And Death’s dark angel did not pass my door,

But slammed the board, demanding more and more.

My God, you owe this to me: let me see

Wherefore my child has now forsaken me.


I want to see him rise to tear the veil,

And borne by angels his kind Father hail,

As his bejewelled banner he unfurls,

His blood its rubies and my tears its pearls.


The Rood


A tree is butchered into beams,

Torn flesh emblematised,

As Jesse’s rod is re-conceived –

Delivered cruciform.


Adorned with jewels, hung with gold,

The ark becomes a rood.

A flotsam of humanity

Drowns in a sea of blood.