I visited the Anglican Church of Melanesia this September, and on the way spent a day in Brisbane acclimatising. I wrote this poem after visiting the Cathedral.

I wander, tired and worn, in search of silence,
a refuge from these jetlag laden days,
but Miner Birds and traffic horns and sirens
and the busy city sounds get in the way.
The doors to the cathedral all stand open
and, with relief, I gently enter in.
Though if it was for quiet I was hoping,
even here I’m followed by the city’s din.
Frustrated by this, prayer feels hard to come by
then slowly something changes as I see
the noise of vehicles, voices, planes and drums might
be exactly where they’re meant to be.
Drawn through open doors into this haven,
the city, and I, are lifted up to heaven.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025