23 July 2015


Thousands lost
For no point or purpose,
Sent to death by pompous fools
Who thought themselves too important
And enlisted men expendable commodities,
A few yards of mud worth more than so many.

Each still corpse
A family ravaged,
A future dashed, and dreams undreamt . . .
Lost generations.

Each who survived
A family crippled,
A future blighted, A nightmare lived
For all his lifetime.

Remember those
Who gave their whole being
And think of all who may have been
Had they not died.

Think of conflict:
Weigh its inglorious cost
Against its gain
And find a better way.

Copyright © 2015 Desmond Hilary

20 April 2015

The Road to Emmaus

To walk with a Friend –
Yet not know him.
To hear him speak –
Yet not hear the voice.
To have our hearts ablaze –
Yet not discern the source.
To thrill at truth revealed –
Yet not see The Truth.

Yet, we would delay his journey,
Keep his company longer;
Extend our fellowship with him gladly;
Share the little we have
In return for the much he has given.

Familiar movements lift the bread aloft.
Familiar words give thanks and bless.
Familiar actions break the loaf apart,
Familiar hands with unfamiliar nail-prints
Pass the bread—and all is Light!
And he is gone!

It was Jesus!
He it was who walked with us;
He it was who talked with us;
He it was who set us on fire;
He it was who showed us truth.
He it was who died and lives again!
Come, we must tell the news!

Still it is Jesus who
Walks with us,
Talks with us,
Kindles our hearts,
Fills them with Truth.
Jesus lives!
Come, we must tell the news!

Copyright © 2015 Desmond Hilary

31 March 2015

A Quiet Night in Bethany

Well, this is it, the main event!
A thunderous welcome:
The cheering crowd,
The waving palms,
The strewn clothes.
“Hosanna,” they shouted:
“Save now!” their cry.
Ah, yes...
But not in the way they think.

For thirty years I've learnt my trade;
Wielded the tools,
Driven in nails,
Cherished the wood,
Worked with the grain;
Earned a reputation,
Lived a different life.
Ah, yes...
But not in the way they think.

For three years more I've shown the way;
Wielded the words,
Driven home points,
Cherished their substance,
Worked through their pain;
Earned a certain notoriety,
Marked out a different path.
Ah, yes...
But not in the way they think.

And now, we have but five days more.
Still they are frail,
Missing the point;
Sensing the moment,
Yet not working it out;
Feeling somewhat emboldened,
Set up for the decisive fray.
Ah, yes...
But not in the way they think.

In five days more shall all be done:
The Tyrant shall fall,
Shackles be broken,
Freedom break out;
A new world begin,
Lives be transformed,
And love rule the day.
Ah, yes...
But not in the way they think.

For soldier-boys will ply my trade;
Wielding the tools,
Driving in nails.
I'll cherish the wood,
Hang against the grain
Beneath a reputation;
Die a different death.
Ah, yes...
But not in the way they think.

Copyright © 2015 Desmond Hilary