Spirituality

Poem 808 – Embrace the Grey

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As I’ve got older I’ve noticed
That grey has invaded my eye brows.
They are not alone.
Increasingly I find
It in my politics
And streaking my theology.
Gone are the days of black
and white and hairlines,
And close up I don’t see
So clearly anymore.

It’s not that I have lost
The idealism of youth,
I remain a dreamer,
But I have learnt in this world
Sometimes options are messy,
Not simply right or wrong.
This isn’t a dreary dullness,
An insipid washed out life,
But an edgy place of risk
That forces thought and faith.

I thought when I’d grown up
I’d know, you know, but no.
The certainties have gone
And all that’s left is hope,
And living on the line,
And love and love and love,
And nothing’s riskier than that.
And so I think and pray
And act and hope and trust
That Love is big enough.

Honestly demands me to admit that the older I get the less I think I know. Thankfully, amongst the debates and decisions, the question gets simpler, what does love look like here.
(02.03.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 807 – I Believe in Tomorrow

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Tomorrow bombs of confetti will
be dropped on those we disagree with.
Campaigns of generosity will
be inflicted on our enemies
and joyful marches will take place
protesting love for the stranger.
Tabloids will express a welcome
and social media will be social.
During elections our politicians
will say nice things about each other,
and spam bots will be used to give
good gifts to naive recipients.
Tomorrow the lion will lie with the lamb
whilst all colours will dance together.
I still believe tomorrow will come,
I do, but for now we just drop bombs.

I refuse to give up but sometimes it’s hard to hold onto hope.
(01.03.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Erik Brolin on Unsplash

Poem 799 – In Hoc Signo Vinces

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Whilst marching with your men, a mighty vision
rose up in the sky, a sign above the Sun.
Both crisp and clear this vision of the cross
emboldened you, bright burning with the order,
go forth and in hoc signo vinces.

‘Born again’, baptised by Eusebius
and strident with new faith, you set to war
the cross enshrined on shining shields and
having defeated all who fought your fearsome sword, you sit serene upon your throne.

But in your daring did you ever doubt
such conquest by the cross of Christ who sought salvation not by sword but sacrifice?
This man made mighty by humility,
his love will ever stand above your reign.

Outside York Minster sits a statue of Constantine, the Roman Emperor who’s ‘conversation’ led to Christendom, the joining of the power of the state to the church.
(21.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 798 – York Minster

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This mighty edifice imposes itself upon
the horizon, a brutal slab of stone. It thrusts
into the sky distorting gravity;
we stand before its feet and sway.

Above an array of monarchs, saints and grotesques
stare down at us, distorted faces worn
by age and weather. Their bulging eyes follow
our fleeting lives that form and fade with the wind.

For the last few days, York Minister has been the dramatic backdrop to our lives, what an amazing building.
(20.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 782 – Towards a Theology of Tyre Changing

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A concrete campus, garage forecourt,
stacks of tyres worn and discarded.
The sound of pounding machines within
and artificial scents without.
This domain’s devoid of photosynthesis;
no life, no beauty, God vacated –
even the sky is overcast.
But where can I go to escape your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
Below the mechanic works with care;
a craftsman worshipping with his tools.
In his hands electrons fire around
circuits like neurons, bringing metal
limbs to life, machine creation.
Discarded tyres will be redeemed,
reborn as seats for children’s play.

Another poem inspired by yesterday’s trip to get the tyres changed.
(04.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Egor Vikhrev on Unsplash

Poem 770 – Rest Awhile

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The winding week is done, its work is over
The veiling night draws near, now dim the light
Its time to take account of all its triumphs
And put its problems prayerfully aside

Once ready, rest awhile and rediscover
That peaceful place that every person needs
Recall your core, your heart, your cornerstone
And gladly let the God of grace within

It’s Friday night!
(23.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

Poem 765 – Hope

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Hope, the belief that things can change,
that just as night turns into day
these troubled paths can be rearranged.
Hope, the belief in a better way
than we experienced yesterday.
Hope, the belief that despite the past,
there’s more to life than fickle chance.

I wasn’t sure what to write tonight and so picked out a form I hadn’t tried before, a Chaucerian Stanza, which uses an ABABBCC rhyming pattern.
(18.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Ryan on Unsplash