Friday, January 28, 2005

The World Ahead

Home is behind, the world ahead,
and there are many paths to tread;
through shadow, to the edge of night,
until the stars are all alight.

Mist and shadow, cloud and shade,
all shall fade, all shall fade.

~Billy Boyd

The World Ahead
January 27, 2005

For Ada.

So long the journey,
from meaningless shadow,
to form of night
and life renewed, redefined;
alight with truths
one only finds on life’s
more bitter trails.

Does it show on my cheek,
in the paths of care,
tear-traced, which
crease a youthful face?
For I know the pain
of striking out;
of treading paths,
bereft of fear,
when naught is left
to lose;
to gain


All mist of doubt,
all shadow of loss,
all cloud and shade
of unbidden solitude;
by light of stars and Guardian
of wholly redeemed night,
shall fade.

Written by Carie Maria
Arranged by Sean Seibert

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Shattered Icon

Mosaic of the Transfiguration of Christ, St. Catherine Monastery, Sinai, Egypt.


Both this poem and Transfixed & Transfigured were inspired by the image above, from St. Catherine Monastery in Sinai, Egypt.

This face,
crafted of thousands
of tiny, broken bits
of pottery.

So unseemly for Your glory..
yet so appropriate.
I and my own are but
broken vessels.
What you have taken
unto Yourself,
You have transformed
and made whole.

And so I hope,
looking upon this
transitory likeness,
that You have taken on
the broken clay,
and from it crafted
such beauty as
could never have come
before you assumed
and redeemed
what was shattered.

Friday, January 21, 2005



Thus has it always been:
Plucked up, on the wind blown,
once settled again,
the seed has always grown.

Too many times to count,
the bloom was plucked once more,
blown into the wind,
scattered upon Nature's floor.

A kind of Virtue can be found
in shallow roots and hardened ground:
Roots so anchored rarely ache
when Time exposes them to change.

But indeed, if this be Truth,
if shallow bonds are virtuous,
then Virtue must now be content
to fall beside the Road, unspent.

Roots long to extend their reach;
know the crop this soil may reap;
find a home, awake from sleep;
know a joy that makes one weep.

Shallow roots cannot sustain
desires which need a firmer base.
Let sun shine, and fall the rain-
and with deep joy, bring also pain:

And ne'er let Time uproot again.

Monday, January 17, 2005

Transfixed & Transfigured


I can see You better when I'm hurting.
I've never understood that until now:
Grieving what is gone;
longing for what may never come;
aching "from wounds inflicted
in time out of memory..."


Staring into space is a hobby.
My target of choice to look beyond:
A blank wall, a repeating pattern
on the couch cushion,
in the textured paint on the ceiling;
perhaps a spot on the window,
or a cobweb- not that I have
cobwebs in my house.
Heaven knows I keep it clean-
as clean as I am able with all the
repeating patterns and spots
on the cushions and windows.


Tonight, my eyes found a new image
to fix upon, to stare beyond:
A mosaic face, the patterns of tiny glass
flowing in and out of a visage
so patient,
so meek..
so powerful,
I could not stare blindly for long.

I found myself entranced by You,
captivated by Your humble countenance,
though depicted as magnificence,
in the midst of revealing Yourself
And yet You look to me and ask;
do not command, nor expect;
only offer Yourself.

What an icon..
What a man.

For just a moment,
I remembered how it felt
before I knew,
before I hurt,
before I fell..
to be in love.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Natural Seduction

January 13, 2005

Cerulean graces my eyes.
My ears detect the buzz of bees;
the nectar they devoutly seek
permeates olfactorily.
Suckling honey from tiny blooms-
pale yellow, peach and ochre hue;
surrendering to cool, green grass
beneath me on this emerald path;
content to feel the subtle breeze
play soft upon my skin; enraptured
by the warm and teasing rays
of midday sun.

I yearn to stay,
as long as I may tarry,
as nature sings its songs,
and all of this tranquility
converges in its majesty
in order to make love to me.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005


January 12, 2005

The second in a series relating my
experience of reception into the
Orthodox Church on January 9, 2005.

Sealed upon my brow.

Upon my eyes and ears..

Upon my nose and mouth..

Upon my heart,
upon my hands,
upon these feet on which I stand..


All is holy,

"It is meet
and right"
to bless the flesh that goes

to see and hear;
to smell and taste;
to will and work;
to walk upon the earth..

in the will of the Father,
in the love of the Son,
in the strength of the Spirit:


Tuesday, January 11, 2005


January 11, 2005

In this quiet;
in this grief;
"in this moment,
sadly sweet..."
I come to know Thy mysteries.

In this grace and mercy, meek;
in this tear upon my cheek;
I know that Thou art here with me,
as ever Thou hast been.

Knowing what will never be;
sensing truth inside of me;
giving Thee what troubles me,
I'm learning now to find the peace
of Spirit Holy dwelling now
within my soul, refining me;
defining me.

Take my laughter;
take my need;
take the troubled thoughts in me.
All is Thine, and also me-
Above all I have longed for
through the years since first
I took my breath,
I desire Thee.

Thanks to my friend Derek for the title.
If anyone has a better idea, I'm still open,
although I think this title fits the piece
quite well.

Sunday, January 09, 2005


January 9, 2005

Today, I will be chrismated
into the Orthodox Church. I have
seldom known such anticipation,
nor such quiet, brooding joy.

"Thine own of Thine own..."
There is naught of us that we can give
which is not already Thine.

"We offer unto Thee..."
Only what Thou hast freely given,
being Love, unto humanity.

"On behalf of all..."
Not only your servant and priest,
but this Body of believers,
and all believers everywhere,
Your creation,
and those who,
in a mystery,
seek Truth...

"And for all..."
We offer all we were,
all we are,
and all we ever hope to be,
for the sake of all,
for the sake of Love,
and for Your Glory.

"In the name of the Father
and of the Son
and of the Holy Spirit,
...keep us in Thy holiness...
now and ever and unto ages of ages,

Wednesday, January 05, 2005


January 5, 2005

Morning twilight
graces my pillow,
courts my weary eyes,
reluctant to release
their failing fancies.
Hesitation proves futile,
as ever it has:
For who can hold her
when Dream perceives
her time has come,
eluding grasp as reason
waxes in the morning sun?
Ever she wanes with dawn,
ghostly and beautiful,
donning wispy,
blue-grey garments,
her visage grieved
as story dies once more
before its end.


January 5, 2005

The sweetest grief
I ever knew:
This life has naught to do with me,
but rather, all to do with You,
the space You opened,
held for me,
within eternal Reality...
all for mercy,
nay, for grace,
nay again, for love...
like a veil of lace
obscuring the last remnants
of evening twilight.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Celebrating Nativity

December 25, 2004

The trees still shimmer
with the breath of God.
Days ago He passed by
in the chill winter wind,
breathing soft upon the limbs
and boughs of saplings
and mighty ancient trees alike;
His breath, frozen in a moment.
Perhaps the evil one intended
to keep it impotent,
for it to return empty,
nay, for it to return

But the breath of God
is beyond the assaying
and whims of the accuser.
Frozen, yea, but frost upon frost,
ice upon ice,
glaze upon glaze produces prisms
so complete in their fashioning
that one wonders where source ends
and refraction begins.

This beauty is far too sophisticated
for one so at odds with virtue
to dim its splendor.
Nay, but the faintest light
of distant star or Guardian of Night
draws a twinkle into sight
from places where the breath of God
did deign to pass and mark His sigh.

How much more so on this,
the morn of Incarnation revealed,
does the light of day in prisms sway
and bring delight unto the eye.
Hardly did I mark the road
as I made my way across
the glimmering fields of Kentucky
to celebrate Nativity
among the Faithful.

Twilight Ice

December 23, 2004
4:54 AM

I woke too early
and caught God out...

I perceived Him painting the world,
glazing it in glittering glass;
just without my window, where,
veiled in silver vestment...

I saw Him pass.

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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