Open Hearted Church

The ever open door

Now firmly closed

Against the rain, against the cold

Ornate, foreboding and set in stone

The gateway to safety,

Beautifully carved

Pleasing to the eye

But heavily barred.

There she lays

On the floor

Just skin and bone

Out in the rain
Exposed to the cold

Giving up hope and left all alone

At the gateway to safety,

Beautifully carved

Pleasing to the eye

But heavily barred.

Is there nothing more

Beyond that door

Than the priest with his crimson and gold?

What about sharing

What about the poor?

At the gateway to safety,

Beautifully carved

Pleasing to the eye

But heavily barred.

That's what we're here for

For those who roam

Who lay in the rain and the freezing cold

They need a welcome

And they need a home

Not a gateway to safety, that's beautifully carved...

But a church that will love and open its heart.

Joe Morriss

January 2010

Don't let them blow away

I walked out on a blowy day
I thought as I went along my way
At how the world is so full of people
Cars and houses too.
So many different clothes and faces
So many different colours and races

And then I felt a burden come
To know the meaning of this one
What am I, one man, to do
With so many souls
Just passing through?

So there I sat upon a bench
Until I thought my heart would wrench
I asked the Father to speak to me
What is my life supposed to be?

The the wind blew
Gusting strong
And all the leaves started racing along
They scurried and skipped
And danced and tripped

My thoughts were stirred
My gaze fixed upon
As if God had just
"where I blow....men follow along"
They have no choice but to live and then die,
To blow from here to where, and why?

In a lull, the wind abated
The rushing stopped, next gust awaited
A passer-by without asking why
Just stopped and picked up a tumbled leaf...
My heart skipped a beat
I leapt from my seat! 

Again the multitude raced by
And I quickly stopped one which caught my eye
Then I stumbled after the next
Gathering, laughing
Out of breath!

On and on they aimlessly raced
But I'd saved a few from an unknown place

To stop and hold these passing leaves
Brought great joy, at last, to me
I realised exactly what God would say
"These leaves are like souls...don't let them blow away".

Joe Morriss
2005

Harvest of Souls

A field before me

Bright and gold

A harvest of souls

Rolling pasture

Number untold

My heart yearns to reach out

Reap the trust of these ones

Lost and hurting

But where to begin?

Stop them in the street

Under duress

Hard pressed

To tell them of this love within?

And by the field

Are two trees

One is barren

The other has leaves

Mistakes of the past

Over which one grieves

The other's blossom is a promise

Of continuing life and fruit to come

This is faith

Which can be believed upon.

Back in the yield

Poppies adorn the field

Scarlet and bright

Scars from the fight

But blood is thicker than water

And here is a deeper red flower

It speaks of a death

Of love, of power

A love for the lost

Counting the cost

Reaching and restoring.

And so my harvest is not great

One man in a million

I try, I cry, but it's getting late

What can I do but gather?

Fill both my hands

Hold what I can

And keep holding...  

Joe Morriss

August 2006