At The Coalface

Phnom Penh, Cambodia, 14/12/10

Back at the coalface.

Back in the land.

No longer here just to look.

Instead it’s time

To take up my pick

And start carving out a life

Unearthing hidden treasures

Locked in years of promise.

For now it’s a season of slowness

Of feeling the rock

Of facing the looming freedom

Of living alone.

Already tested in the weakness

Of stomach sickness.

Exhausted by the thought

Of calling for help.

All too aware of no one there

Too soon for an easy community.

Wrestling with weariness and self-pity

The back-of-the-mind pressure

To do, make friends,

Get out there, get on with it.

The imagined demands

On faces far away.

But then a shift in thinking

And smiles of friends appear.

Each one for me,

Not against me.

Like the great cloud of witnesses

Waving their support

Yet with feet planted on this earth

Standing under the same sun.

Here the sky is sparkly and clear

And the land rich and green.

Here the people grin and giggle

And welcome,

Always welcome me in.

Yet still I feel

The unresolved rawness

The repression of a nation’s soul

Still suffering.

Centuries of civil war

Have left their legacy

With tribe against tribe

Friend against friend

Man against wife.

The now you see me

Now you don’t play acting

Of hidden truths

And up front lies.

The overflow of NGOs

Of missions and churches

Of projects and causes

All with different ways and views.

You can feel the unease

The friction and competition

The wariness and caution

The temptation not to trust.

Yet here I am

Standing at the coalface

Grasping at the words

To define this time.

The more I see and hear

The more my head spins.

The more I think too much

The more I delay.

So with pick in hand

I smile at those who sent me

Who loved me enough

To set me on my way

And ask that you might pray.

For Strong Arms around me

Peace deep within me

And release of the Wildness

That will break the rock.