Spirituality

Poem 985 – Let It All Go

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I started to strip on the A1:
Flung off the keep moving facade,
Peeled back the constant focus
On nothing but the urgent,
Discarded the pretence
That everything was fine.
These layers were left everywhere,
Leaving me feeling vulnerable,
Unnerved but somehow open.
Outside the wipers washed
The windscreen clean again,
Allowing me to see.
The rain began to clear.

It’s been a bit of a year with one thing and another, but Greenbelt has always been a chance for me to reset and recharge. The theme this year? ‘Let it all go’. This feels strangely apt.
(27.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 983 – Life on Ice

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Life’s like ice skating
Sometimes it feels like you’re flying,
Moving so freely through the days
With effortless style and grace.

Other days you get caught in a rut,
Find yourself wobbling violently
Or crashing headlong into a barrier.
Sometimes it’s not even your fault (but sometimes it is!)

Both occur to all of us.
Be kind to yourself, don’t scream and rant.
Pick yourself up if you need to
And don’t hate the one who glides past – next time it may be you.

That snapshot, that moment in time
When you pull it off, or you fall in humiliation?
It is only that moment. It does not define
What came before or what happens next.

So don’t judge yourself or those surrounding you.
We are all Torvill and Dean sometimes
and for those who remember,
Todd Carty in Dancing on Ice…

Went ice skating today…
(25.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Library of Congress on Unsplash

Poem 977 – Contentment

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Sat in the back of a foodbank van, the sun
is beating on my face. Right now this is
a happy place. I note the irony.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter what
you have, that things don’t fill a soul or make
you whole. That’s easy to say when you have things.

I have things. Too many things it’s true.
So many things I freely throw them in
the dump. That’s not a boast but a confession.

Once, a wise man found the secret of
contentment in plenty and in debt. Perhaps
I need to find it. …But maybe not just yet.

Musings whilst sitting on the back of the foodbank van today…
(19.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Autotrader UK on Unsplash

Poem 971 – Decorating Therapy

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And relax,
Feel the gentle rhythm:
In, out, in, out.
The flow of paint upon the wall,
The careful application until all
is covered, an even coat.
And as you breathe let go of thought,
Of fear or threat, anxiety
And simply be.
In, out, in, out.
Don’t bite your lip in concentration,
Drip the paint upon the floor
Or door or carpet. Hesitation
Leads to messy lines, just flow
With it,
In, out, in, out,
Until it’s time to lay your brush
Upon the tray, step back and look
And say, it’s done and all is good.

Life’s a little busy right now, but decorating seems to be a great way to let go at the end of the day, one walk at a time.
(13.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Roselyn Tirado on Unsplash

Poem 954 – M1 Wings

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Spread-eagled, fallen angel’s wings lie prone,
dark, shredded tyres reaching to the heavens.
Did they plummet violently like Icarus,
actively rebelling against their master?
Or was their end more gradual, a slow decline
like falling snow that gently fades away?
The same conclusion waits for both despite
the drama faced: a lonely, cold, hard shoulder.
So take good heed, my friend, and drive with care
not speed, and fly, eyes open, filled with love.

Driving along the motorway today I spotted the familiar sight of remnants of truck tyres lying on the hardshoulder. One strip in particular caught my attention, its edges feathered.
(27.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Alexandr Popadin on Unsplash

Poem 949 – Ely Hears the News (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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The news of Hereward’s return soon spread
And reached the Abbot Thurstan,
Who wrote from Ely deep in the Fen,
Where he and other most resolute men,
Were set upon a brave defence,
Against King William and contend,
His stubborn decision to impose a French monk
Over every one of them,
Down to the very last person.

O Ely, island of the marsh,
Beloved by Mother Fen,
Whose towers stand above its mists,
And tenderly its wetlands kiss,
Concealing paths and trails that twist,
From eyes of devious men.

Word of Hereward’s return reaches the Isle of Ely.
(22.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo Bob Jones / Ely Cathedral / CC BY-SA 2.0

Poem 931 – The Chapel

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A place of steeped in prayer,
Where liturgies of hope,
Have polished heart and beams.
Where panels echo to
The beat of spirits’ breath,
And stones are smoothed by grace.
We join the timeless one,
Converging generations,
Come, Lord Jesus, come!

Inspired by a chapel at the centre where I’ve been leading a retreat for the Sierra Leone Mission today.
(04.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 923 – A Heavenly Blacksmith

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The furnace of the African sun
Was the perfect place to forge a friendship,
To meld our souls, two servants together.
It only seemed appropriate that
This friendship was restored today
Under the blaze of this burning Sun.
As one we walk in different fields,
A common life in different cultures,
Together refined by Christ the Son.

In an act of perfect symmetry I was reunited with a friend from Sierra Leone in a heatwave reminiscent of my time there.
(25.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Vincenzo Marotta on Unsplash