Poem 198 – Silence

Sometimes, the most eloquent prayer is silence.
It says I cannot feel your pain because
I do not walk the path you tread, it’s yours.
In ignorance, I have no words to give;
those I possess will not suffice, meaning
speaking belittles your experience.
And so, like Job, I hold my hand across
my mouth to offer you the best I can.

As a church minister, I frequently find myself with people facing suffering. I’ve learnt that the best thing to say is often nothing at all. The best thing is to simply be there with them.
(17.08.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

Poem 194 – The Importance of Space

We gathered round and peered.
The husband said, ‘It’s deep,’
I nodded in agreement.
‘It’s deep so I can fit on top.’

I backed away to give
him space for thought. A moment’s
silence, and then, amen,
the hole was filled with prayer.

Leaving, I noticed that
his arms were full of nothing,
as was his car, and home,
his sentences left…

Sometimes the nothing hurts,
but not always. Sometimes
it takes familiar shape,
its contours reassuring.

I haven’t posted a poem for a while, partly because I’ve been distracted with other things, and partly because I’ve been grappling with this one. It started off as a poem about the importance of giving others space to be, but ended up as something else. I worry it’s a little glib, I hope not, but I don’t think I can take it any further right now.
(16.07.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Valentin Lacoste on Unsplash

Poem 189 – Who Am I?

Who am I?
I am how others see and shape me, friends
and colleagues, neighbours, enemies. I shift expression, slide to meet whoever stands
before me now. I am your husband, friend
and lover, sharing lives, and tears and dreams.
You’ve had my best and worst. I wonder what
you see, you who knows me best, who am I?
I am my work, my nine to five and more;
it’s how we catalogue and frame the other.
I am the teacher’s son, the scientist’s too,
designed by nature, nurture, chicken, egg.
Does anybody know the essential me,
the one beneath these morphing layers?
                                                                                I don’t.
He is not there, he doesn’t exist. I am
only because this web creates, remakes me.
I am I and you and him and we.

Who is the real me? A counterpoint to my previous poem (Poem 188 – Exposed). Those of faith might spot another allusion and contrast.
(23.05.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Hermann Wittekopf on Unsplash

Poem 188 – Exposed

I shed my face,
the one I placed
upon my face
this morning. Here,
with you,
                    it lies
discarded it’s
unnecessary.

The truth beneath
revealed, my veins,
and flesh displayed
to you. No need
to pause,
                    exposed,
stripped back, you stand
naked before me.

Watching the ease shared between Paul Whitehouse and Bob Mortimer in ‘Gone Fishing’ I found myself reflecting on the nature of friendship.
(20.05.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Harli Marten on Unsplash

Poem 183 – Barn Dance

Two couples, groups of four,
arrange themselves upon
the floor to dance. Caller’s

instructions given, they walk
it through, counting their steps,
fierce thought performs on faces.

The music starts and now
they charge whooping; tonight’s
for plowing on regardless!

We were at a family barn dance this weekend. Happy Birthday Emeyle and Jade, thanks for a highly enjoyable evening!
(17.04.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Joel Wyncott on Unsplash

Poem 169 – I Collect People

I collect people.
Not in an album like
a stamp collector, or
macabre jars like some
demented serial killer,
but in my memories.

Childhood friends stand by
eccentric teachers that
inspire and shape my path.
Loved relatives are filed
with heroes of the stage
and teenage heartbreakers.

Congregation members,
that walked with us awhile,
together with neighbours
who passed our window daily,
their names undiscovered.
Did they know each other?

Time to time I take
them out and dust them down,
revisit, reminisce.
These familiar faces,
both intimate and distant,
make up my life’s matrix.
I am in reference to them,
embedded and defined.
There is no island life.

A conversation at church about personalities who have been part of our family over time prompted the phrase ‘we collect people’. This stuck in my head and eventually prompted this poem.
(20.02.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Raj Rana on Unsplash (Original in colour)

Poem 166 – Embrace

I circumnavigate you
Enfold, encapsulate you.
Not to subsume, consume,
Devour or dominate you,
But to be one with you.

Oh, to be one with you,
Align my life to you,
Try not to assume, presume, but
Embrace this life with you,
Breathing as one.

Peter Capaldi’s 12th Doctor said,
‘Never trust a hug. It’s just a way to hide your face.’
I disagree.
(02.02.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Marcel Ardivan on Unsplash

Poem 162 – To Chris & Anna

I knew you once. At school.
We played, imagined worlds,
Rolled dice and conquered dragons.
We learnt. Shared desks. Since then
We’ve met just once. A brief
Collision, passing by.

We’ve kept in touch, sort of.
We’ve watched each other’s feeds.
Smiled and commented at
Feasts and family gatherings
Matched faces.

I’ve shivered at the sea,
From safe behind my screen.
Watched you crash right in.
Tell me, just how do you
Take your shots without
Sinking? And grin without
Taking in the ocean?

Then, this pattern was
Disturbed. A jolt of memory.
Another face unseen for years.
Decades. And yet, the name
Was waiting to be spoken.
I knew you once. At school.

Do you remember the gossip?
The playground pointing?
Classroom chatter?
‘So and so fancies so and so.’
Watching, that forgotten,
Adolescent urge returns.
I turn to tell my classmates
Only they’re not here.
Perhaps somewhere they do
The same behind their screens.

It’s been an odd few years.
For most, years to forget.
But not for you.
Your joy has brought us joy
Peeled back the passing years.
Your simple post, ‘One week
to go’ elicited
Our keyboard cheers, and so
I raise a virtual glass.

Perhaps one day we’ll meet
Again; for now, a toast.
I break this virtual wall
To type, ‘To Chris and Anna!’
I knew you once. At school.

This was written in celebration of two old school friends who I discovered via social media are imminently getting married. Chris enjoys swimming in the sea in all weathers, something I can barely imagine in the heat of summer! Poem posted with their permission.
(17.01.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

Poem 137 – At Last

All rise to greet our blushing bride who floats
Along the aisle to meet her grinning groom
Who smiles with pleasure mixed perhaps with nerves
Whilst waiting patiently for her arrival
Meaning they at last can clasp each other
In celebration never to let go

Last Saturday I had the wonderful privilege of marrying my daughter (I was the minister!) The two of them didn’t stop smiling all day…
(15.07.22)

© Ben Quant 2022
Photo J. Pes 2022

Poem 134 – Held Tightly

It isn’t long until you tie the knot
Exchange your rings, say vows that bind you tightly
I hope you find them not constraining chains
But liberating promises, security
Like tape that holds a graft firmly together
Until the two infuse becoming one
Releasing you to look ahead not back
To check your knots have not become undone

In just a few week’s time I’m conducting a marriage. This is always a privilege, but even more so this time as it is my daughter’s! Not surprisingly, I’m mulling over the question of what to say and pass on.
(23.06.22)

© Ben Quant 2022
Photo by Jeremy Wong