The invitation


Come with me and stand before the dawn,

let us be still,
without words
and wait,
wrapped in the blanket of darkness
within and without.

Watch with me
as sun splinters break into our worlds,
to see and to be seen,
never giving ourselves in total to the light,
but residing in the threshold of shadows
to protect this precious gift.

The invitation of this day comes
through the mist across the vast sea
ensuring the mystery of our adventure,
the known and the unknown,
consummated through our eyes,
a revelation, a constant re-veiling,
for to see fully would be not to see at all
as it is in the familiar of things that we lose our sight.

From this dawning may we awaken
tired eyes blinded by the ordinary
and welcome the wonder of this new day.


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Blessing Time

As the days line up one after another outside the door of tomorrow

with hours sorted and stacked in piles of do’s.

May you know how to count the preciousness of each moment and

not live the next before all of life is extracted from the present.


As interruptions come in every shape of the clouds calling for attention,

may you have the eyes to recognise the angels in disguise,

stop what you are doing and go out for coffee.

This may be your real work for the day!


As you become buried in your own sense of self importance,

may you speak words of praise to those who make you look so good and

words of encouragement to the wearied of hand and heart.

This will save you.


In the mundane minutes filled by the particulars of nothing,

may the child within you not forget how to play.

May your eyes sparkle with curiosity

with your heart always open to wonder and surprise.


At day’s end when you’re spent of  hours

and the shift worker of night has come,

surrender to the setting sun.

May the grace of darkness bring light to your body and soul in sleep.


Andrew Norton 

Vella, Switzerland September 2013

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The promise

There is a promise
that is carried throughout the ages
and journeys the barren beauty of wilderness,
the valleys of grief
and the thresholds of new beginnings.

Jerusalem’s pilgrim polished streets;
cream red veined stone
and walls of prayer
have not forgotten
the promise.

It comes to the listening ear
wearied by the sounds of many voices,
now available to the one true voice that calls you by name.
Wrapped in pervading aloneness
a voice of prevenient befriending
whispers sacred words.
You are not alone . . .

“I Am with you”.


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Blind spots


God bless my blind spots

Bless the people whose eyes I cannot see,

give to them surfeit grace

that overlooks the blindness of

my log jammed eyes.

And while you bless them,

may you also bless 

the naked image I see in the mirror

as for the very first time,



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A New Day


With eyes acquainted with the dark
may the first light of morning awaken within you a beautiful question;
one that unlocks doors
bolted by yesterday’s grief
and the harsh and unforgiving words
you have spoken to yourself.

May the sun spill light
into the cracks where the residue of darkness hides
inviting you to walk without fear of what lies within.
On these virgin sands of time coming to you as pure gift,
may you be embraced by a concept of grace
that sets you free to begin again.

Untie the string around your finger
as you remember forgotten dreams,
like a song that has been waiting to be sung,
listen for the long note played by the most gentle touch of the bow.
May it resonate with the one true note within that is you
and dance your dream into this day.

Andrew Norton, Switzerland, July 2013

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Lost and Found

ImageIn this body of evidence no stone is left unturned,

searching for clues left behind by
an abandoned past.

Memory is like that,
dusting the corners in search of a word
dislodged by the wind and rain.

In the crowd of strangers
I look for the face of a friend
to find my place.

It is in the unfamiliar that the familial is found.
I had to go far away
to see what was close at hand.

If not found by day,
I listened to the dream in the night,
for only in this body, the soul is found.

Andrew Norton, Provence, July 2013
“My country is in my soul” Marc Chagall

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Available to Grace

ImageWhen all is said and undone

with plans nailed to the wall.
When the well is dug dry with blisters in hand
and life is a liturgy work without rest.

Are you not worthy to receive without worth?
With white flag raised;
a soul surrendered is available to grace.

Hands visible and invisible guiding the way,
hidden in plain sight through a curtain
drawn back, an invitation to hold.

Speak not to be understood,
beyond all reason,
listen with the eyes of your heart and the laughter of soul.

Now you can see
sunrise and set without aid of your hand,
forty shades of green make way for
natures harvest in fields of gold,
lavender reflected in the hew of blue and grey sky.
Hidden in the corner the artists sign!

Before you
a door of welcome is opened to the stranger in you,
a table prepared for a meal without end,
an empty cup filled again and again
with the very best wine of life,
becoming friends who witness your silhouette back lit by the setting sun.
Available to grace.

Andrew Norton, Provence, July 2013

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