Thursday, April 26, 2007

The Grass is Growing

26 April 2007, 11:39 AM
The Haven

The grass is growing.
In the midst of hell unfolding,
there is a Haven- a peaceful
place which fosters life, no matter
how small and delicate. There is one thing
all these little deaths cannot change-
that life will always encroach
on the mouldering heaps of decay,
making of despair a sustenance
which cannot be taken away.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

The Wrens

24 April 2007, 11:29 PM

The wrens have returned, Love,
and they're nesting in the hollow
of that Oak where your heart
once had been. I raise a blessing for the gift
of life renewed, burdens lifted, to the Giver
of love and laughter and all things
bent, all things broken, now renewed.

Some wording taken from "The Color Green" by Rich Mullins.

Closer to Sacred

24 April 2007, 8:24 AM

One feels better in the wake- more whole,
though perhaps less holy for the struggle.

Yet there’s the possibility that grief can sanctify,
and so perhaps the morning finds me
that much closer to sacred.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

My Mood

17 April 2007, 8:53 AM

So many factors play a part in this
my mood at any given point on any day.
It seems my curse- I cannot put to rest
this need to drive a thing into the ground;
to find the hurt round which each little
swing is wound. There is always a cause,
even when it manifests as less than rational.
There is always a reason when one loses
reason in the midst of sadness, anger,
grief or happiness- yes, joy as such
distracts as much as any other state
of mind; causes one to peer ahead, remove
eyes from the path and yearn toward
some distant point I’ll never actually see
if I refuse to move my eye from it; be present
in the beauty of the moment given me.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007


11 April 2007, 8:23 AM

Do not lament Him, Beloved,
seeing Him in the tomb- the Son conceived
in the womb without seed- for He shall arise
and be glorified, and glorify the Unholy
by His holiness. Though darkness fall
as a shroud, impenetrable to our tainted
minds, yet shall His light fill such things,
the rays of which have pierced and torn
and sundered all that kept at bay fulfillment
of the promise- the Word shall be held
no longer, nor enveloped by the tomb again.

Sunday, April 08, 2007

The Palms

8 April 2007, 10:50 AM

So many things have been eaten
by the locusts, but not this moment,
sacred as it is- Robyn rests
beneath the shade of palms, in the shelter
of the Nave, gazing up through longish
leaves which leave their outlines on her
face and in her mind- someday not so soon
she’ll leave this place behind, but not
this moment. In some way, big or small,
she’ll remember the incense, the darkness,
these haunting hymns,
and the palms.

Saturday, April 07, 2007


7 April 2007, 6:30 PM
MSNW of Blessed Memory

A great many things have been eaten
by the locusts- though I’ve known for some time
she was not one of them. Too alive
to be destroyed by such wearisome creatures;
too full of life and beauty and charity
in the truest sense of the word,

and I never even knew her;

only stories of a woman so inclined
toward hospitality, one could not help
but stay awhile, pull up a chair, sip
a cup of coffee, fresh and hot and ready
for the men she may never have met
before they sat at her table, partook of her
kindness, making all things warmer,


more satisfying than a meal taken alone
before the day’s work had begun.

Building Terebithia

31 March 2007, 4:23 PM

So very brutal, the wrenching joy
of tearing down Death, making room
for Life to come again to places it must have graced,
for Death can only come where Life has been.

Making way for life to come again; fill spaces
dry and crackled brown, soon to green;
touch the face of gentle Springtime skies,
making ready for the very first
and longed for Summer of our lives.

Spring Greening

28 March 2007, 10:02 AM

The brushes are greening,
behind white fences- they
go on for miles in both directions. I
had not dreamed the changes
Spring would bring- so many good gifts
since last the reddish orange hues
painted every branch reaching high
into an azure sky. Autumn to Spring,
and life begins again, right on cue,
and so unexpectedly I cannot help
but gape, awed at the chronology
of things I thought I knew so well,
yet could not clearly see in Hell.

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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