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:

Phillip Medhurst




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


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.




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.