A coracle on the seas

Mine is a small boat on a large ocean
The shore is out of sight
Rough seas toss me from side to side
A squall could overthrow me

But in a coracle
no way is forward,
no way is back.
It goes with the flow
Taken by the winds

But it is all God has given me
And God thinks it is enough.

From a postcard in the Barbican gallery

The nun, her hand brushing
the damask silk
of the cardinal's robe,
seen at the altar as
splendid, regal, untouchable,
a splash of light and colour
in her black and white world,

imagines her hand smoothing
the soft gentle silk
of the cardinal's skin
stripped now of his robes,
human, vulnerable:
waiting for someone
to bring light and colour to his black and white world.