Erice Fairbrother writes this as she sends this poem. I give the scripture below … and wonder whether there are those who are reading this who would kindly send a version in their own images emerging out of a time or disappointment or loss. Erice turns the text on its head — not a time of famine but nature abundant and famine, famine of the spirit. If you are moved to write please send it to the parallel gmail account (rather than the comments here which do not sustain any length) here
I am writing this after reading Habukkuk – the prophets assertion of faith and trust even in the face of desolation. How often though all seems to be full and the cup overflowing, yet the richness of life and living things remains inaccessible. It is the face of the grace of God, in the presence of all the fullness that we have received, that the real offense and denials are so keenly felt, and exclusion so deeply marked by contrast.
Though the lemon tree bends
with her fruit
And the grapefruit hang
Though the camellia bloom
And colour washes
Though tui call through
And bees are alive
Yet the fruit of our heart
Is not ripened
Nor the beds of our soul
Though the fig tree does not blossom,
and no fruit is on the vines;
though the produce of the olive fails
and the fields yield no food;
though the flock is cut off from the fold
and there is no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will exult in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
and makes me tread upon the heights.