A Prayer for a Grudge

Poetry Collection No. 2 & what I’m reading and eating in August.

Hey friend, 

This is my second poetry collection. Thank you so much for the kind words about the first one. The theme seems to be awe and trust: letting go of control, the idea that I know everything, and trusting God. 

1. A Bee Mystery - pondering limits for my mind 

2. Binbin Yalaha - exploring the limits of Google 

3. A Prayer for a Grudge - exploring the limits of my heart 

Photo by Rebecca on Unsplash.

A Bee Mystery

I am stuck in my car at a complete stand-still, 

out the front of my son’s school. 

A bee perches on the windscreen, covered in fuzz,

undeterred by the rain. It’s undulating to some kind of rhythm. 

Is this how it warms up in the rain? 

Is it imbibing energy from the elements? 

I creep further forward in my seat, 

stretch my neck over the steering wheel. 

The bee turns to look at me,

I’ve never seen a bee from underneath before.

There’s nothing in my mind, 

just me and the bee – 

I don’t want to flick the windscreen

wipers. I don’t want to Google. 

The bee flies away

No longer me and my bee, 

it’s just me, 

and my mystery. 

Binbin Yalaha 

Google doesn’t know 

what triggers labour to start, 

Google doesn’t know 

the depths of the Mariana Trench,

Google doesn't know 

about Binbin Yalaha, 

a moth only discovered this year.

I thought all the moths were catalogued, filed. 

Google can define Myeloma

but not the grief of a mother.

Google doesn’t know what it means for a mother 

to see her daughter’s resurrected name 

soaring on a silken wing,

a rare moth in the moonlight. 

A Prayer for a Grudge

O Lord, this seed of hurt has burrowed into my heart, 

found fertile ground, invaded the soil. 

I water, fertilise, nurture my hurt. Resentment springs up,

strangles the lush landscape, self-seeds into bitterness. 

My trees become brittle shells, 

dead wood, hollowed out by termites.

Numbing can’t stop seeds in the wind, 

pruning can’t restore a dead tree. 

I fear cynicism and self-righteousness 

may poke out of the ground any day. 

I don't know how to forgive in my own strength - 

I can't even hate the sin that’s eating me whole. 

But I do know how to hand things to you, 

say this is too heavy to carry.

I trust you. You are my true north. 

I will obey, even when my flesh screams. 

If you say I must forgive seventy times seven,

I must forgive. Help me.

Poison the weeds, Lord, tear out the stumps, 

burn it all to the ground. 

Soak my garden in mercy, remind me 

what I truly deserve from your hand.

My God, my God, I pray for spider orchids 

from white ash. Renew this barren, burnt out land. 

Wreath it in wattle and blue wrens,

Let this heart rejoice once more.

I’m Loving

Okay, books first. Here are a few I loved in the last six months: 

A Thousand Mornings // Bright Dead Things // And Yet // Create Anyway: The Joy of Pursuing Creativity in the Margins of Motherhood // How to Write a Poem // I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman // Strange New World: How Thinkers and Activists Redefined Identity and Sparked The Sexual Revolution // How (Not) To Be Secular

This episode of

In Writing with Hattie Crisell

was a joy. 

This was fascinating. 

Pandora Sykes

put words to something I find hard to explain. 

I want to believe this is the solution to my wardrobe woes. But maybe it is being French? 🤷🏼‍♀️ 

Don’t know how I made it this far in life without this skill. 

Justin Fourie

just launched a thoughtful Substack processing through what he is learning in theological college. Convicted by these words on prayer. I went to my first ever prayer meeting a few weeks ago and thought, why have I not been doing this?

Loving the strong Screwtape Letter vibes from

Hannah Le Cras

’ latest piece for The Gospel Coalition Australia. I’m seriously impressed by her skill in extracting Puritan insights from dense tomes and translating them for modern day.

I’m a big fan of the lazy poached egg. Basically, you start to fry an egg, but then you add a bit of boiling water, turn the heat down and pop a lid on until the top of the egg cooks. Perfect weekday morning brekky. No stuffing around 😎

Also, did you know you can roast a whole butternut pumpkin if you put it on a tray in the oven on 170C for an hour and a half? Leave it to cool down over night and in the morning peel the skin off like a banana and scoop out the seeds. I mash mine up with a fork and add salt, pepper and a dash of cumin. You can turn it into quick pasta sauce, soup, fritters, hide it in a curry sauce, or even pop it on toast with fresh ricotta cheese and parsley pesto. There are heaps of recipes online but it’s a delightfully easy way to meal prep.

Some Things I Made 

I never felt the lack 

so deeply, 

never realised 

there was a hole 

until it ached. 

Issue 5

Have you read anything good recently? Let me know in the comments.

Love,

Bec.