Faslane: Breath “We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life.” —- The taxi is already waiting. Marcus’s rucksack leans against the front door. His mum keeps finding little things to straighten— a collar, a loose thread, a sleeve already smooth. The kettle boils. Neither of them has much to say. Last year He had gone to the cinema to watch Spider-Man: No Way Home. Before the trailers, a Royal Navy advert. Travel. Adventure. Learn a trade. His mates Messed about

Heathrow: Lift “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.” — The alarm sounds at quarter past four. David is fifty-three. He has flown for twenty-nine years. His wife, Emma, turns over without waking. Downstairs, the kettle boils. He drinks one coffee before work. Wednesday is recycling day. He rinses yoghurt pots, folds cardboard flat, washes the jam jar before putting it out. Outside, the hybrid starts. The M25 is alread

Liverpool: Which Door Stays Open? Nicene Creed Series #9 “He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.” —- The Liver Birds keep watch above the city. Samuel is thirty-four. He comes from South Sudan. For now, he lives in the Britannia Hotel. One room. One suitcase. His white nursing shoes wait beneath the bed. Inside his Bible lies a folded certificate. Registered Nurse. Sometimes he unfolds it, looks at his name, then slips it back between the Psalm

County Durham: Will Anything Live Again? Matthew is fifty-two. He lives in Blackstone, a village built on coal. Rows of brick terraces. A welfare hall. A Methodist chapel. If you stand at the edge of the fields, the older folk still point and say, “That’s where the pit was.” You cannot see it now. The winding gear came down years ago. The railway was lifted. The earth has grown over what was once the beating heart of the village. Matthew isn’t sure whether that’s healing or

Belfast: What Are the Walls For? Nicene #7 For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried… — The peace wall is covered in messages. Schoolchildren. Tourists. Visitors from places Ryan has never been. People travel halfway around the world to look at a wall built because neighbours were afraid of one another. His son presses a hand against the concrete. “What’s this for?” Ryan looks up. The wall is taller than he remembers. Or perhaps that

Content note: This poem explores themes of pregnancy, childbirth, baby loss, homelessness, grief, and death. Hereford: And Was Incarnate Nicene #6 “And was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary, and was made man.” —— Sarah is fifty six and has worked as a hospital chaplain for longer than she cares to remember. Most mornings begin with the same road through the Herefordshire countryside. Mist hanging above fields, blackbirds lifting from hedgerows, the cathedral tow

Ilkley: What Will Save Us? Nicene #5 For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven… —- Peter is seventy-two. He lives alone in the stone house where he and Anne raised their children. The bookshelves are still full: politics, history, economics - the sort of books he once believed might explain the world. Most mornings begin with tea and Radio 4. Sometimes he sits long after breakfast, watching weather move across the moor. The house is quieter now. Not the quiet of a

Content note: This poem contains references to suicide, addiction and allegations of sexual offending. Glasgow: Whose Am I? Nicene #4 —— Michael is forty-three. He lives on the twelfth floor of a block overlooking the M8. Day and night, the traffic keeps moving: lorries, headlights, blue lights flashing somewhere. The city rarely sleeps, and rain freckles the windows. Sometimes he stands at the kitchen sink long after the kettle has boiled, looking out across Glasgow. Tower b

Manchester: A Longing for More Nicene #3 —— Rachel is thirty-six. Every Thursday morning she pushes a buggy through Manchester towards the church hall. She comes for the toddler group. At least that’s what she says. Her daughter loves it: the train set, the toy kitchen, the biscuits. Rachel likes it too— the tea, the conversation, the warmth. The church hall means a few less hours heating the flat. The food bank runs from the building next door. Most weeks she calls in afterw

Canning Town: Where Do I Belong? Maker of Heaven and Earth —— Jay is thirty. Every morning, on the way to work, he passes the cranes. Glass towers rise above the docks. The billboards promise riverside living. Luxury apartments from £750,000. He laughs every time he sees them. Not because it is funny. Because he still sleeps in the room where he slept as a child. His mum has the room across the landing. His sister, who needs support, has the box room. The waiting list stretch

After Mass, Margaret stays behind. Beyond the church windows, the harbour at Oldhaven lies beneath a low northern sky. A handful of fishing boats rise and fall with the tide. The North Sea stretches beyond, grey as memory. The church settles into silence. She gathers the sacred vessels from the altar and carries them into the sacristy. The chalice bears the faint marks of a hundred hands. She polishes it carefully, the way Mrs Donnelly taught her more than forty years ago. Mr