Horror & Terror
Spoke the Prophet in Brazil
The prophet stood,
Watching the water,
Bubbling from the ground,
High in the hills.
Hills from which he saw
Beautiful horizons
On many days.
He stood
At the source of a river,
With no one to hear him.
He knew the river
Would eventually
Flow into the sea,
Regardless of what he did.
At the source not much grew.
He began the long walk down.
As he walked along the edge
Of the stream,
He watched it swell,
As he walked along the edge
It became a river.
Soon the water fed vibrant nature,
Soon he saw a few people gardening,
Soon he saw crops flourishing,
Soon he saw people farming,
Soon he saw people fishing,
Soon he saw cities growing,
Soon he met a crowd.
He wondered why he knew the source,
The source of things to come,
The source found up the mountain,
The source from which all life flowed.
He knew the prophesy
Would flow into reality,
Regardless of what he did.
So what was the question?
The river in time
Would do its thing.
The only question
Was what to do
With the precious water?
What life to feed?
He told the people,
I know you are accustomed
To your river,
But it is important to decide now
What life the water needs to irrigate,
Because when it reaches the sea
All will be salt
And you will not be able to drink it.
In many places far away,
Men are pouring salt
In the wounds: of the land,
Of men, women and children,
Who revolting at the pain and the taste,
Either are forced to cross the salted sea,
Or will rise in rebellion.
I remind you here
The water still flows from the source,
Mixing with the vibrant land,
The people singing, dancing
Celebrating, healing,
Not perfect by any means
But not salting the earth.
Still able to welcome,
Still able to grow,
Still able to share,
Still able to prosper,
Still able to be family,
Still able to taste Eden.
Still, and dancing,
Sang the prophet in Brazil.
Written in Belo Horizonte in August 2025
Thanks to Mariana Jorge for inspiration
Back to the Garden, A Prophecy | 1. The Peacock in the Garden | 2. The Garden in Brazil | 3. Are You The Gardener? | 4. Spoke the Prophet in Brazil
Back to the Garden, A Prophecy
1. The Peacock in the Garden | A Prayer of Oblation
2. The Garden in Brazil | A Daily Office
3. Are You The Gardener? | A “Holy Week”
AI Audiopodcast discussing “Are you the Gardener?”
The Garden in Brazil
This Morning
After a nightmare
I can’t change,
I awoke in a garden
In love with Eve
And the snake,
Savouring the apple,
Trusting my intuition.
Together at Noon
Totally pursuing
Pinnacle power,
Finding enough to make
A mass difference,
Loving the hard work,
Building not pyramids
But Jerusalem.
This Evening
Eve and I,
Stepping out to celebrate,
Issue an invitation:
Come friends and family
And strangers unknown,
Let us go dancing
On a carnival date.
Now at Night
Let us roost, make love
To create paradise
For kids to come.
Join us now
In this Eden
To sleep well,
Before it’s too late.
A Daily Office
Back to the Garden, A Prophecy | 1. The Peacock in the Garden | 2. The Garden in Brazil | 3. Are You The Gardener? | 4. Spoke the Prophet in Brazil
Awake to Ukraine
There is a dawn moment when the heavens are blue and the sun creates yellow above the horizon of the sea and you see a blue with a yellow stripe emerging beneath and at that moment we awake to the flag of Ukraine.
Please get up in the morning and reflect on the sunrise and the values that we wish to arise in us and the values that we wish to grow and we wish to make happen. But the sun will rise quickly and the bright light will blur all and the busyness of the day will flood into our lives and we will forget the point that we need to remember when we awoke.
We can live in horror at one man’s poverty creating destruction on another land, the brutal attack and destruction of the sovereign nation of the Ukraine and systematic murder of its people. And we need to hold that and remember and not forget but we also need to have a horizon that we can look out to and set sail towards. It is a horizon of our values that we want to rise to and we know that are true, are kind, are good, that build a loving and prosperous world. May we see the Ukrainian flag on the horizon at dawn and wake to work throughout the day to make life giving values alive for all.
So I give you a picture, taken from my home in March in 2021 at dawn, showing the sun rising at that moment when the Ukrainian flag can be on all our imaginations as the horizon of our hope. Let us wake, look out and remember Ukraine and the values of wonder in our hearts that we want to make real in the world and decide what sacrifices we will make this day to make wonder come alive for every person in the Ukraine and for every person in the world.
This reflection was inspired by the artist Karen Tusinski who paints stunning pictures of the horizon in Rockport Massachusetts and who has painted a Ukrainian flag on a canvas and placed it in the window of her gallery. I’m asking artists to paint pictures of the Ukrainian horizon to keep us inspired.
The Candle Trilogy published in “Untamed Gospel”
Martyn Percy, Dean of Christ Church College, Oxford writes, “It is good to be able to welcome and introduce the poetry of Jamie Coats in this anthology. Jamie is a layperson working for the Society of St John the Evangelist (SSJE) in the United States − an Anglican religious order of brothers. Jamie writes on contemporary monastic wisdom, and his work draws on Buddhist, Hindu and Christian traditions of meditation and silence. We reproduce his ‘Candle Trilogy’ towards the close of this volume.”
Amazon.com Kindle version of Untamed Gospel
The Candle Trilogy: Unlit Betrayal | Lit Faithfulness | Faithful Betrayal – Holy Fire
The Dove
I fly and land where needed,
Where Justice finds her heart hurting,
And we hold the gods accountable,
Opening eyes to her love,
To the love of her,
God.
A Prayer of Oblation
(c) Jamie Coats
24th July 2017
Faithful Betrayal – Holy Fire
First of the Trinity
Mary
God does not
Rape
Mary.
If God had raped Mary
Do you think we’d have her joy
So magnificently described?
God sends Gabriel.
He appears as the most
Gorgeous of men.
She hugs him saying,
“You are so beautiful.”
Places her head on his chest,
Looks up
And tentatively
They kiss on the lips.
He moves to kiss her again.
“No,” she says,
“My betrothal is arranged.
My father is making me marry.
I cannot defy him,
My blood-line, my tribe.”
Gabriel steps back.
“You get to decide.
God’s love is consensual.
Any other story
Is a lie made up
By man.”
Mary tremors at the idea.
A woman freed to choose
Love over tribe,
A woman no longer
Property of man
With the right to decide.
Knowing that this right is
The centre of God’s love
For all mankind.
She chooses love.
She defies her dad,
She faithfully betrays her blood.
“Be it unto me
According to
Thy word…”
Gabriel, Mary
As man
As woman
Fully alive
Feeling
Exploring
Adoring
Intertwining
Through each other
Combining
To be
Worship
To and from
Eternity
Now one
With God
Now spiralling
In a greater orbit
Knowing they are
Saying yes to life,
To Jesus.
She gives birth to a boy,
Who grows to be a man
Who in time understands,
But before,
His tribe raises him
As their man.
Like all of us
He learns the normal
Basis of hate:
Who’s in?
Who’s out?
How is my blood superior?
I am a boy,
I am this belief and religion,
I am of my tribe.
Second of the Trinity
The Syrophoenician Woman
He grows into a prophet,
Limited at first,
He prays to the Father,
And says he is just a man for
The lost sheep of his tribe.
One day he meets a woman,
A woman who says, “No,
That is not good enough.”
She prays as a Mother,
The Mother who is
Desperate
For her sick child.
She is foreign,
Annoying, cloying
And totally persistent.
She is not of his blood,
Gender, race, tribe
Caste, class or God.
He denies her,
He reviles her,
Finally calls her a dog.
She faithfully sees past
The hate he’s been taught
She knows his heart.
She stands her ground,
Tells him,
“Even dogs get scraps.”
Like flint
She strikes him,
Sparks his love.
She breaks the clasp that holds
His cultural coat of hate,
It falls away,
Revealing the loving heart
Given him
By his mother and God.
His mutual love flows,
He loves her daughter
As his own.
Free,
He heals
Into the Messiah.
Third of the Trinity
Mary Magdalene
He is now on the path
To be crucified
By those so superior.
Now he honours every woman,
Every foreigner,
Every other.
Now he’s got it,
Are you surprised
Why he is such a hit
With all the women
Of the Gospels
Described?
Are you surprised
That those of power,
Still dressed in hate,
Come after him
For such betrayal
With bloodshed in mind?
Betrayed by a kiss,
Led through the crowds,
They kill him on a tree.
Mary Magdalene
She watches him die.
His agony consumes her,
She struggles to stop
The terror
From petrifying her.
He dies. Is it over?
The light is fading fast
When his body is released.
She follows
As they take his body
To the tomb.
A new one carved into rock
With a circular stone
That rolls back into a slot.
They haul his body
Down into the antechamber
Onto the preparation table,
No time
To put him into
One of the burial slots.
It is Sabbath,
Darkness,
She’ll return when allowed.
On the third day
She comes early,
Still in darkness
With enough myrrh
To stop the retching
That celebrates
The victory of those
Who kill those who
Put love before blood.
The stone is sitting
In its slot
Rolled back.
No stench,
No body,
Another humiliating loss.
The rock-carved tomb,
The ultimate dead end,
Is emptiness.
Have the men of bloodshed
Desecrated his body
And hidden their evil deed?
“No!” she screams.
In the place of despair
She is faithful to love,
She feels it envelop her.
She turns, risen he is there,
Betraying death itself
Her love explodes,
It is that mutual love
It feels consensual
Beyond sexual,
Union with God.
No hatred to those who kill,
Compassion for all,
Resurrection love
From her pours forth.
Finally Holy Fire
Yes his act is sacred betrayal.
Yes his reward is death,
Yes he is going to ask you to
Stand with the poor,
Under the stars and
Light the candle of a little child.
You will light her candle
Regardless of who you are.
Free, you will not ask
Of gender
Of race
Of tribe
Of caste
Of class
Of God
You’ll faithfully betray
Your tribe if you answer
Yes to what Jesus and
The Trinity of women ask,
“Are you flint enough
To light Holy Fire?
Biblical References:: Luke 1, 23:26-24:12, Mark 7:24-30, Matthew 15:21-28, & John 20:1-18
The Candle Trilogy: Unlit Betrayal | Lit Faithfulness | Faithful Betrayal – Holy Fire
The Candle Trilogy was published in Untamed Gospel edited by Martyn Percy.
© Jamie Coats February 2017
Theme for the Year 2017
Unlit Betrayal
At the top
Is the water source
So pure
The priest takes
A bottle full
Puts a stopper in
In the valley
The church of
Bottled water
Dispenses
Drop by drop
Meager blessings
Wondering why
The children
Are missing
Is it that they know
Water falls
In a cascade
A torrent
For everyone
In the valley
And the river’s
Been pissed in
By the Mayor?
Who reneged
Cheated
The Pied Piper
The flute now
Lures the children
To be lost
Under a mountain of
Indebted
Hopelessness
Rats return
Gnawing the candle
Of their dreams
But every child
Dares to light
That candle
They do it
Behind their
Parents’ backs
Placing it in a holder
Sincerely
Wishing for flame
Hopeful
That the flickering light
Will make them sacred
They doubt it
Their snuffing fingers
Warm wax rubbing
Worried they’ll
Be revealed by
Tainting scent
The candle now unlit
Irresolute, they chance
No accidental fire
But will you
Give them
A match?
It is said that in 1284 the Pied Piper of Hamelin was retained to get rid of the rats and drowned them all. Then the Mayor reneged on the bill and the Pied Piper lured away all but three of the town’s children.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pied_Piper_of_Hamelin
The Candle Trilogy: Unlit Betrayal | Lit Faithfulness | Faithful Betrayal – Holy Fire
(c) Jamie Coats February 2016
The Man in the Noon
I rode Pegasus all morn,
Could have ridden all day,
Instead at noon
We gently come in to graze.
Emma said the Lord of the Manor
Will say unto you, “Work for me
You’ll be fed from my dovecote
Eggs and young fledglings that coo.”
Emma taught me to reply,
“You’ll not want me to work for you.
I’ve been sent to release the dove,
It is what I am called to do.”
I’ve broken into the dovecote,
Picked up the fluffy fledgling,
The one nearly ready for flight,
’tis now in my jacket, peeking out.
Now I throw the young dove
Up into the air.
Up towards the sun.
Squinting, I see it fly.
I call out at the top of my lungs,
If you don’t shoot for the stars
You’ll not land on the moon.
If you don’t land on the moon,
You will not see the whole earth,
So blue and beautiful,
So full of God’s people.
Hold it all in your heart.
Then ride a moon beam back
To perch on Pegasus’ head.
He’ll snort with delight,
Now you coo and I’ll begin to pray,
This noon
I stop
I put down
All I do.
The offering of my work
Is to you, God,
And to my love,
And to all your children too.
Thanks be to God
Who gave me life.
I love the people of this earth,
I’m sorry I judge them so.
Now I call out their names to you.
God, help us, hug us
With our demons
Whom we deny.
Then in your arms
We will know
We’re already loved,
Forgiven, renewed.
Come Pegasus
Did you graze well?
Your new friend the dove
Will guide us seeking.
It is time to fly,
Fluffy fledglings to find,
We’ll go
’till the sun starts to hide.
The prayer in the middle of the poem contains the seven ways to pray in the Book of Common Prayer: 1) OBLATION; 2) THANKSGIVING; 3) PRAISE; 4) PENITENCE; 5) INTERCESSION; 6) PETITION; & 7) ADORATION.
How to explain to my daughter what it is like being hit by a bus while bike riding
The Jackal-Headed God Anubis Speaks to Alexandra
“Dear Alexandra, how old are you?” “Nine.” “You want to train dogs?” “Yes” “That is good because humans don’t understand their dogs, wolves they have made their own,” said Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the Dead. “It is strange that humans are so blind to the responsibility they have taken.”
“You see Alexandra humans stole fire. They have created machines and built large organizations of great power, all ultimately dependent on the capture of fire. But when humans captured fire they caught the carbonized-black jackal dogs of death that race through the flames eager for human blood. It goes like this, when a human takes control over fire I assign one of my jackal dogs to that man or women and see how well they do. When then they get in a car or take a position of power they have at least one of my jackals with them too. It is there on a leash. Some humans deliberately set their dogs of death on others but mostly humans are careless and forget what they have right next to them, waiting to attack, to kill, to send the souls to me, a dog of death. I show the dead compassion as I understand what killed them.”
“Careless. It was a lovely summer’s day when your Dad set off on his bike from home to ride to the Monastery where he works. He was wearing a bright orange shirt with reflecting stripes, just to be extra careful.”
“A bus passed him then pulled across his path. The driver had forgotten my dog; he failed to check his mirror. The rear of the bus hit the bike. My dog pounced on your father, sent him flying through the air and into the ground. Biting his helmet, cracking it through both sides, tearing through his clothes, ripping off his watch and backpack, smashing his glasses and phone and mangling his bike. My dog was after his life, biting his shoulder, mauling his left side skin, shunting his collarbone into his sternum to make it crack and even bruising his lung. But basically my dog failed, merely licking him, not tearing the life out of him, leaving him naked but alive.”
“A dog is always a kind of wolf, Alexandra, needing training. My dogs require humans to pay close attention to training, something the driver and my guess his bosses too were lax about.”
“Lying on the roadside your Dad had an image of you appear right before his eyes, his heart opened and he cried in joy knowing that it is the love for others that is the center of what our lives are about.”
“The dogs of death do abound. Luckily for your father he was quickly attended with people who know about my dogs and have the training. People stopped to help him. One man called Alejandro had met one of my dogs when he fell off his motorbike. Knowing that my dogs are always willing to strike and other humans can be careless, he got trained in emergency first response. He helped your Dad. The ambulance and hospital staffs know about my dogs too and with much training patched up your Dad.”
“I am pleased you know your Dad’s friends George and Carolee and how they trained Baxter to be a service dog. You remember George’s 80th birthday party at a synagogue? It was a Viennese themed birthday party because George was born in Vienna before the Second World War. When George was about your age or a bit younger Hitler took over Austria and Vienna. George is Jewish. Suddenly George was not allowed to go to school anymore. His parents were worried that Hitler would kill them and their children, they were right to be worried because Hitler did later organize the killing of many millions of Jews. That is like killing you and every single person in your town and 150 towns of similar size. George was put on a train with his older brother by his parents and sent to England. Luckily his parents escaped later and they were welcomed to the come to the USA. Hitler knew about my dogs and deliberately unleashed them on innocent people and children. George and Carolee know about my dogs and trained Baxter out of his biting into a caring animal for the young woman in the wheel chair who you met.”
“It is good to learn how to train dogs, Alexandra. Humans seem blind that they live with wild jackals all around them for which they are responsible and need to train. Your parents learned how to train dogs when they got feisty Karma, your adored now seventeen-year-old male Nova Scotia Duck Tolling retriever. Humans have a choice, they can unleash their dogs of death consciously or carelessly or they can take responsibility for their dogs. It is great you want to learn to train dogs. Alexandra.”
On July 31th 2009 as I bicycled to work I was hit by the rear of a Boston MBTA bus that passed me and cut me off. My helmet saved my life. It took me 10 months to fully recover. The driver was cited by the police for negligent driving. The MBTA never apologized but settled my law suit.
Jamie Coats 2009 (c)