Phillip Medhurst

Wisdom from a Gnostic Sage

Category: Uncategorized

My Ship of Death

I’m reading “A Ship for the Death of Phillip Medhurst” on Scribd. Check it out: https://www.scribd.com/doc/20161188

Phillip Medhurst

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Samson

 

Sam found a little knife

While wand’ring in the ward.

When nurses tried to truss

The old man to a chair,

He cut their knotted tape

And made good his escape.

 

But is he strong enough

To grab with steady hand

The starched lapel of Life-

In-Death’s white coat and crash

That cranium’s empty dome?

That way, he might get home.

 

 

He Descended into Hell

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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.

 

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.

 

Icon

 

Though man-proportioned, Christos shrinks

Into His mother’s robe:

Our God kenotic made.

 

Mardi Gras

 

Fat first-fruits pledge what is to be:

A growing and a ripening sea.

His promise raises us from sleep

To cross, in forty days, the deep.