Falling

One of the most moving encounters in my time in Melanesia was with George. He moved to his village when he was a child from his home island of Sikaiana, which is about 100 miles out into the Pacific. He showed me a tree on the shoreline where he prays every day, but because of Climate Change the tree is threatened by the rising sea levels and he said to me “if the tree falls I will too”. His community only has about 10 years left before their village will be washed away by the sea.

He landed here when he was only eight
Crossed a hundred miles of ocean on the way
Left his island and his heart to make a brand new start
In this strange and unfamiliar place

When he left his boat he sat under a tree
It was only small, like him, but he could see
The horizon far away and he knew beyond it lay
His home, his heart, his history

And the tree grew bigger as the years passed by
And he built a life here under strange new skies
But the tree was watered by the tears he’d cry
For his far off far off home

He watched with pride as all his children grew
And then he watched his grandchildren too
As they laid down their roots And started to bear fruit
In the only place they ever knew

His tree became a refuge for his soul
His confidante, his muse, his hiding hole
He would visit every day to sit, and watch, and pray
To restore his heart and be made whole

And the tree grew bigger as the years passed by
And he built a life here under strange new skies
But the tree was watered by the tears he’d cry
For his far off far off home

One day while he was walking to the shore
It seemed a little closer than before
As slowly day by day the land was washed away
And his tree wasn’t safe there anymore

For the second time in his life he knew
What this meant and what they’d have to do
It was time to move on before his tree was gone
Because if it fell he knew that he would too

And so the tree grew smaller as they sailed away
In search of a new life and a brighter day
But the tears feel freely as he bid goodbye
To his far off far off home

Oct 5, 2026 0

Waves

As I was preparing for my visit to Melanesia I had a conversation with a priest from Guadalcanal. I asked him about the impact of Climate Change on his islands and he spoke about the work they are doing to protect themselves, building sea walls and moving inland, but then he said “but the waves keep coming”. I wrote this song based on that phrase., the character in the story is fictional but it is an all too real story.

As a child he sailed beyond the reef where all is sky and ocean
He learned to trust the wind and waves, their rhythm and their motion
Out there on the endless blue he fell in love with water
His island was his own canoe, his lifeline and supporter

But the waves keep coming and the waves keep coming
and the waves keep coming and they’re washing it all away…

He built his house beside the shore, a stones throw from the coastline
Looking out towards the sea where he would spend the most time
Casting out his fishing nets and hauling in his quota
Hoping that come market time he’d keep his world afloat

But the waves keep coming and the waves keep coming
and the waves keep coming and they’re washing it all away…

It didn’t happen all at once, it took a while to spot it
The slow surrender of the beach ’till nobody could stop it
The water which he’d learned to trust around him now was rising
This skilled seafarer could not stop his island from capsizing

And the waves keep coming and the waves keep coming
and the waves keep coming and they’re washing it all away…

He lives up on the mainland now, safe distance from the water
He works a steady job and has a wife, a son, a daughter
But when he sees those distant waves he fills up with emotion
The quiet tears roll down his cheek… salt water, like the ocean

And the waves keep coming and the waves keep coming
and the waves keep coming and they’re washing it all away…
…they’re washing the world away

Oct 5, 2026 0

The Ballad of Tetete Ni Kolivuti

Tetete Ni Kolivuti (which means ‘hill of prayer’) is the headquarters of the Community of the Sisters of the Church in Solomon Islands. I visited TNK back in September and this is a little ballad about this wonderful place.

The soldiers arrived in ’42
With their guns and their packs and their marching boots too
They unloaded their ships and they made their way through
In search of a place to call home
They built a new hill on a flat piece of ground
Cleared the coconut trees from the bush all around
Made a fortified lookout on top of the mound
At Tetete ni Leleu – the Hill of War

The sisters arrived in 71,
The trees had returned now the soldiers had gone
They faithfully followed as God led them on
In search of a place to call home
They built their first chapel up on the hill there
The community grew as together they shared
what little they had with compassion and care
At Tetete ni Kolivuti – the Hill of Prayer

The flood waters rose in ’23
Submerging the land all the way to the sea
And the people all round had to climb up the trees
In search of a place to call home
The hill was an island for several days
Like Noah and Jonah the sisters all prayed
In the swirling of waters as together they stayed
At Tetete lia Kokomu – the Island Hill

For nearly a century the hill has stood
Through war and disaster, through wildfire and flood
As a beacon of light and a wellspring of good
Tetete Ni Kolivuti
This community of sisters still hold on to the spark
in this hill which has been an island, a refuge, an ark,
In a turbulent world where so much is dark
From the hill of war came the hill of prayer
The island hill is still standing there
Tetete Ni Kolivuti (the Hill of Prayer)

Nov 20, 2025 0

Laudato Si

A Poem for Pope Francis, 1936-2025

Laudato Si, praise be to you O Lord,
For Brother Francis who, with grace and poise,
spoke up for the oppressed, unseen, ignored,
forgotten, giving them a faithful voice.
Laudato Si, praise be to you O Lord,
For Brother Francis who, with strength of mind,
stood up for your creation and restored
its honour in the eyes of humankind.
Laudato Si, praise be to you O Lord,
For Brother Francis who, with dignity,
laid down his privilege to serve the poor,
pointing towards a world where all are free.
A faithful servant, may he rest in peace:
For Brother Francis, Lord, Laudato Si.

Rich Clarkson, Easter Monday 2025

Apr 21, 2025 0

White Church

Entered in the Worldwide Whitchurch Weekend Acrostic Poetry Competition 2017

White church, which once stood high atop the hill
Holding holy vigil o’er the town
In ages past your faith stood firm until
The night your weathered walls came crashing down
Contained beneath that rubble lay untallied
Hopes and fears and prayers of those long gone
Undaunted by the task our forebears rallied
Rebuilding what was lost and moving on
Come now and see the town which bears your name
Held firm in faith and friendship once again

(c) Rich Clarkson 2017

Jun 5, 2017 0

The Invitation

The invitation: Come and follow Christ,
walking in the footsteps of Saint Chad.
A pilgrim church, a diocese which tries
to walk the well worn ways of faith. Feet clad
with peace, armed with humility, we share
the love of Christ with all those in our care.
The steady beat of prayerful footsteps, heard
from track and towpath, high street, lane and alley,
fills this ancient landscape with the word
that God is here. From tower block to valley
floor the message goes out, seeking those
willing to wander where the Spirit blows.
Saint Chad reminds us of our true vocation:
To follow Christ, and heed his invitation.

May 4, 2017 0

Bible Memory Poem III (The Church)

Jesus said to his friends “you must go on without me
but I’ll give you my Spirit, tell everyone about me”
so his friends got together and shared everything
and thousands of people said “Jesus is king!”
They baptised them in water like Jesus had said
and each week remembered him in wine and bread
They prayed to God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
and spoke about Jesus to anyone who’d hear it
As time went by many saints followed God’s call
their actions and writings encourage us all
Now all round the world Christians share, pray and sing
because Jesus, our God, is our friend and our king

(c) Rich Clarkson 2017

May 1, 2017 0

Holy Hill

Come let us ascend this holy hill,
direct our feet towards the house of God.
We walk where countless saints before have trod
and, in years to come, yet more saints will
discover whence the living waters flow.
Unsteady feet for some, uncertain minds
for others yet all come to seek, to find,
to pray, to learn, to reconcile, to grow.
Come, turn your gaze past scaffold and boutiques,
past market stalls and shops and chained up bikes,
past memories and future fears alike
for, in this moment, Christ alone we seek.
And in the shadows of this holy place,
within these well worn stones we glimpse his face.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2016

Mar 14, 2017 0

Tag: church