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

Way Home

A new song I’ve been working on, inspired in part by a book called ‘Under Solomon Skies’ by Berni Sorga-Millwood.

She goes down to the river
Searching for sticks in the morning light
She follows her sisters
Into the lingering fog of night
Her feet are unsteady
As the swirling waters reach for her heel
The currents and eddys
That yearn for the sea

They’re finding their way, way home
Finding their way, way home
Though the way ahead may lead through the unknown
They’re finding their way home

She wakes on an island
Brushes the twigs out from her hair
The water is silent
Unlike her rising tide of despair
She looks all around her
Searching for clues as to where she might be
The gulls glide above her
Out to the sea

They’re finding their way, way home
Finding their way, way home
Though the way ahead may lead through the unknown
They’re finding their way home

The sun on its travels
Stumbles and falls into the waves
The daylight unravels
Leaving behind the milky way
And she sees up above her
Familiar constellations of stars
That helped her ancestors
Know where they are

As they were finding their way, way home
Finding their way, way home
Though the way ahead may lead through the unknown
They’re finding their way home

She thinks of her sisters
They’ll be worrying where she could have gone
Then she sees in the distance
A boat with the beam of its searchlight on
Relief washes through her
Wild as the flood that dragged her away
Her sisters run to her
They hold her and say

Come on, we’re finding our way home
Finding our way, way home
Though the way ahead may lead through the unknown
We’re finding our way home

Photo by Ivan Torres on Unsplash

Feb 20, 2026 0

A Conversation Outside the Charles Elliot Fox Library at Kohimarama

Another poem inspired by my recent visit to the Anglican Church of Melanesia. This is based on a conversation I had with a student at the Bishop Patteson Theological College outside their college library.

“The birds around here speak sometimes”, he said,
“the smallish brown ones with the yellow eyes.
You have to pay attention though, they spread
their mottled wings, glance back, say their goodbyes
and then before you know it they have gone,
packed up their conversation and moved on.”

“We used to have a chaplain here,” he said,
“who was well known for talking to the birds
and other creatures. Once the rats all fled
from the cassava patch at just a word
from Brother Fox. His grave is over there.
It’s said the birds still join with him in prayer.”

I tried to pay attention like he said,
but though I watched and listened for a week,
I talked to them, sang songs, and shared my bread,
I never once did hear the Myna speak.
Beside the Charles Fox library, filled with words,
I sit in silence, praying with the birds.

Oct 8, 2025 0

Parallels

I visited the Anglican Church of Melanesia this September, and while there were a lot of differences between life there and in England, I wrote this poem reflecting on some of the similarities

A mother anxiously comforts her baby
An old man groans as he sits on a chair
Children giggle as they enter the classroom
People are people everywhere

Schools that don’t have enough equipment
Farms that struggle for lack of rain
Big corporations that do what they want to
Ten thousand miles, and still the same

Birds sing out as the sun is rising
Stars shine brightly through gaps in the clouds
A cool breeze blows through an open window
At home or away these blessings are found

A helping hand from a kindly stranger
A wordless grin in a crowded hall
A moment of laughter that transcends language
The world is not so big after all

Oct 6, 2025 0

Umbilical Tree

I visited the Anglican Church of Melanesia this September and as part of the visit I spoke to the students at the Bishop Patteson Theological College at Kohimarama. This is a poetic description of part of that deeply moving conversation.

I
There is a small Pacific Island where
when a child is born they cut the cord
and plant it in the ground with a new tree
so that, however far away they sail,
they will forever be linked with their home.

II
I met a man today, a priest, who knows
the place where his umbilical tree is growing.
It is a source of life and strength to him,
a tangible connection to the earth,
to God’s creation, to his ancestral home.

III
That cord was severed many years before,
but now he fears it will be cut again
and this time he’s not sure if he’ll survive
the separation from his source of life.

IV
His island home is being washed away
and with it goes a part of who he is,
while we sit by and watch – or worse, do not.
We are presiding over his destruction.

V
I looked him in the eye then turned away
in sorrow and in shame for what we’ve done,
yet still he greeted me as his own brother,
a fellow child of God and, trembling, I
returned his gaze once more and said “I’m sorry
for all that we have done to you my friend”.

VI
Our actions or complacency are not
without their consequences in this world
but every day we have to make the choice:
Do we give life and seek forgiveness, or
do we keep cutting that life-giving cord?

Oct 6, 2025 0

George Augustus Selwyn

I visited the Anglican Church of Melanesia this September at the invitation of the Bishop of Lichfield, whose predecessor – George Augustus Selwyn – was the first Bishop of New Zealand (which included Melanesia) then came back to be Bishop of Lichfield. I wrote this poem to tell a bit of his story.

In 1841 George Selwyn sailed
to Aukland as a Missionary Bishop.
But on arrival found that it entailed
(due to an administrative mishap)
not just the many islands of New Zealand
but somehow all of Melanesia too!
He set out on a ship to go and see them
with local guides to help him and his crew.
Five times he sailed around these happy isles
and gave to them a Bishop of their own
then, after thirty years of joys and trials,
in Lichfield Bishop Selwyn was enthroned.
His ministry set deep roots and encouraged
the Melanesian people’s faith to flourish.

Oct 6, 2025 0

Whitchurch: A Very Short Story

Winner of the Worldwide Whitchurch Weekend Acrostic Poetry Competition 2017

Watching
Him
In
The
Church
His
Unfeigned
Rapture
Captivated
Her.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2017

Jun 5, 2017 0

Frog

There once was a frog
Who got lost in the fog
As he made his way over the road
He hopped and he hopped
But then his jaw dropped
As he saw that his boat had been towed
He’d parked on the side
Of a river so wide
And he thought that it would be ok
But a grumpy old coot
Thought it would be a hoot
To carry his rowboat away

(c) Rich Clarkson 2017

Apr 29, 2017 0

Bible Memory Poem II (The Gospels)

As a boy Jesus loved to learn all about God
Told his friends: “follow me, fish for people, not cod!”
When people in need came to him he would heal them
And teaching the crowds he’d take truths and reveal them
His miracles they were the talk of the town
And his stories could make people think, laugh and frown
“Who is this amazing man?” asked everyone
Only Peter knew how to reply: “he’s God’s son!”
“Yes I am”, Jesus said, “I’m the truth, the life, the way”
Then “our Father in Heaven” he taught them to pray
The crowds cheered, but some of them weren’t so impressed
And after the last supper they came for his arrest
They killed him and buried him but that wasn’t the end
Jesus rose from the dead so now God is our friend!

(c) Rich Clarkson 2016

Mar 24, 2017 0

Bible Memory Poem I (The Old Testament)

In the beginning God made it all
Then Abraham and Sarah followed God’s call
But their family was messy – Jacob tricked Esau
And Joseph went to Egypt following dreams he saw.
The Egyptians enslaved them but God called out Moses
Who led them to freedom from under their noses.
God gave them commandments to show right from wrong
And judges – like Deborah – to help them along.
Ruth was a foreigner but God called her in
And her great-grandson David became their best king.
But some kings forgot God so to exile they went
Then God called Isaiah, and a message he sent:
“I’m coming myself to show you the way”
And so God became a baby on the first Christmas day.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2016

Mar 24, 2017 0

Tag: story

Falling

Waves

Way Home

A Conversation Outside the Charles Elliot Fox Library at Kohimarama

Parallels

Umbilical Tree

George Augustus Selwyn

Whitchurch: A Very Short Story

Frog

Bible Memory Poem II (The Gospels)

Bible Memory Poem I (The Old Testament)

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