Love

Poem 808 – Embrace the Grey

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

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 802 – A Word Out Of Place

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A word out of place is ….. awkward
It forces us to walk around it,
navigate its corners carefully
lest we should bump ourselves.

The temptation is to ….. shout,
ironic really when you think
about the reason for its angle.
But grace is difficult and costs.

Grace calls on us to be the ones
who ….. hold the tower up when things
begin to topple. This may be
against the rules we share but such is ….. love.

It’s such a shame that what should have been such a celebration of John Davidson’s work at the BAFTAS was turned into something else.
(23.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Michał Parzuchowski on Unsplash

Poem 756 – The Way

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Amidst the chaos there lies a line.
It weaves a way, a golden thread
of grace, not chalk or string, through life’s
varied and unpredictable maze.

A fragile thing, at first it seems
too fine, invisible and prone,
and yet, persistent, it somehow snakes
through life’s ragged ups and downs.

A golden thread that is not precious,
that rolls up its well worn sleeves,
knows life in all its care and messiness,
that dares to tread the dangerous street.

It does not force, or bend, or break,
it simply finds a way for feet to trace
when eyes are dark, imagination
spent. This path is known as love.

It’s been a week of trying to find a way through some tricky pastoral situations.
(09.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Vasilica Ciocan on Unsplash

Poem 593 – Free

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Here, I’m safe to cast aside my faces,
not letting them slip, but tossing them without
a thought onto a pile heaped on the floor;
peeling off the accumulated layers,
revealing the pink and tender skin beneath,
exposing scars and fragile dreams and joys.
I wander naked and without a care,
secure that you will never laugh and point.
This is no mutually assured destruction,
love predicated on the fear of tit-
for-tat, but mutually assumed devotion.

I’ve been writing a series of devotional notes based upon the theme of rest. It struck me that you can only truly rest when you are able to relax about being yourself. It is a privilege to be able to find others with whom you can do this.
(30.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Andre Mouton on Unsplash

Poem 592 – Absent

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Your absence wakes me,
Shakes me into consciousness,
Shouts into my ear,
I want you near, not far.
I keenly sense the space,
You occupied beside me,
The contours of the gap,
You usually fill. I will you back,
Recall your weight, your scent,
Your quiet breathing,
The gravitational pull that,
Holds me in your orbit.
I am contorted, my life abhors
This vacuum that has resulted.
It cannot be filled until
Your peace comes back
And yes, at last, resolves it.

Despite the late journey back yesterday, I woke early this morning, and this poem tumbled out.
(29.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Madi Doell on Unsplash

Poem 520 – Caught In Dissatisfaction

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Between faith and doubt there lives a tension
that neither pulls towards belief or tugs
towards betrayal. It sits in hesitation.
The story that you tell me calls for action,
begat the growing urge to spring to help,
but something in my bones warns me to hold.
I stand, suspended; caught between the move
to love and the opposing withdrawal of suspicion. I’m trapped, arrested in dissatisfaction.

I’ve had a couple of calls from someone seeking help. They might be genuine, but I find myself hesitating. This sits uneasy with me.
(19.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Quino Al on Unsplash

Poem 427 – ‘Days’ Revisited…

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Eleven thousand,
One hundred and thirty seven,
Spent married to you.

Who’s counting? I am.
Each matters, every one a
Choice made together.

From the heady start,
Somersaulting down the aisle,
When Ben married ‘Ken’.

The joy of shared walks,
Exploring each other’s hands,
And ways of thinking.

To expanding love,
The miracle of childbirth,
And growing as one.

Enduring Ofsted,
Learning how you like your tea,
Shared viva anger.

Funding the future,
Investing all my eggs in
One basket with you.

Every day matters,
From mundane daily chores to
Ecstatic highlights.

Eleven thousand,
One hundred and thirty seven,
Spent in loving you.

Ok, so yesterday’s hastily scrawled haiku didn’t convey the feeling behind it (the time was better spent doing that in person than absorbed on the mobile writing!) Hopefully this conveys some of that. And yes, our vicar did try and marry Ben and Ken, his embarrassment a cause for great delight for the rest of us!
(15.02.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 357 – The End

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Opening the covers,
the end seemed far away,
but now the pages turn
more quickly; the epilogue
is closer than the start.

I long to read your lines
more deeply, to understand
their meaning and import,
so that our entwining lives
may be mutually enriched.

When all is said and done,
when the story has been told,
let it be known that I’ve
known love and fully loved,
for love’s our one true end.

Following on from yesterday’s poem and The Cure’s latest album.
‘And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love’ (1 Corinthians 13:13).
(18.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Mr Xerty on Unsplash