Miracles

Such common things,
Miracles,
We often fail to see them,
Passing through them
With a set jaw.
Sitting at the bar
In a dim room,
Or filling our attention
With the latest magazine
And its perennial sex advice
And horoscope.
Yet we might be sitting astride
Immense wings
With hundreds of others,
And, powered by the channelled
Fury of the sun,
Lift into the skies
And cruise above clouds,
Above seas,
Above mountains
And continents,
To land — where?
It’s just one of those
Common, everyday,
Wonderful, miracles.
And why did we invoke
This miracle —
To meet with love?
To experience the new?
To confront opportunity,
Or run from shadows?

And didn’t I
Just yesterday
Walk casually from a house
Warmed by fuel stored
Some million years ago,
To board a vehicle
Waiting through wind,
Storm and shine
To meet my need?
Then, when near it,
I sent a ray darting through space
To unlock the vehicle from its sleep.
Within moments,
I can start a journey of ten,
A hundred,
Even thousands of miles,
In this amazing carriage.
Isn’t that a miracle;
An experience beyond imagination
Just short years ago?
And from that same carriage,
Even while it moves,
I can hear distant voices
Speaking, singing, arguing.
And with a tiny object held
In my hand,
I can reach out to
Almost any spot
On the whole earth,
And question and converse
With someone of my choice.
What strange common
Miracle is that?
How many miracles does it take
To make us cry out in awe?
How many to bring words
Of thanks from us?

Copyright ©2002 Tony Crisp