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Love Letters to the Lord

+ It's a lonely day that casts me down +Lazarus +Missing You +O glorious God of the frail +THE NAIL  +Suffer +I spy threads whizzing through the wind +Today's Commentary +No elegant beam +An Easter Serenade +The only way I can be washed clean +Monologue  +For the Voice +My father (not yet in heaven)  +Aloft, enthroned in rue and strife +In the deep deep storms of green +Our Lady of the Visitation +String bean +O Good Jesus +Dear Lord of my heart +It is the fifth day of this fever +God in a box Ignored  +Saints of God, we thank you +O flower living in a tree  +Dear sunken wood  +Lord, to collapse in You is a fond, fond thought  +Mother, today I write to you  +O dear baptist  +If I were to say  +Holy Innocents  +Oh to have a ball  +Melon spray   +O Lord of life and laughter +O Holy Simeon  +Asleep in Your arms 

 



It's a lonely day that casts me down
The sky descends in shades of brown
All the world appears to me
in unreality

The cheerfulness I used to find
in reveries of open mind
has sunk the veil of innocence
and in its place has left lament

All loving acts that flowed into
a grace of joy that beckoned you
have shriveled up like wan debris
and floated into open sea

Adrift, a-raft, embattled, torn
I am a soul whose faith is worn
but still intact, praises be
for God alone embraces me

While all the world detours amiss
and broken friends depart the tryst
He stays the course, if hiddenly
A figment of eternity.

1/17/04

 


 

O bright Lazarus do you see
the shrinking heart that is me?
From your rest in heaven's moor
can you spare a beat of yours?

I am a poor man, though rich-clad
and many sober feasts I've had
Can you feed me but a crumb
of heaven's bread? I'll not succumb

To the mean streak I supposed
you'd have for me, heart-closed
I'll be grateful now, I promise
if you hand me but a pumice

For the thick-skinned wretch I was
the abject boor immune to pus
I'm sorry now, don't you know?
All I want is your glow.

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MISSING YOU

 


Lord, master, friend, far away

You seem a memory
The glory gone

And spark no more

No more sweet anticipation

No fertile delight

Only arid distance

Like a desert imported to

Bay-soaked Maryland

I feel bereft, alone

But you transcend the gap

My feelings create

And help me past missing you.

 

March 13, 2003

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O glorious God of the frail

Make your love prevail

In ache and joy,

In gold alloyed

Until resistance fails

 

So near and there the truth is free

-- A scionís reverie

No ground to take

Or fight to make

Just sweet surrender be

 

For east and west alike

The disjoint twainís wright.

Be bond of all

And Jerichoís call

To splice the world aright.

 

You are the rock, the Peter kin

The strength of soul within

Make us your church

The pride of birth

For poor Jerusalem.

 

March 12, 2003 Feast of Saint Innocent

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THE NAIL

 

Alive O Lord You build in me

A holder of sweet trinity

So hard and sharp to be Your friend

So overcome with bitter end.

 

And in the pew a stagnant prayer

Seeking life without the bier

Only hammered through again

A victim face to apprehend.

 

I view You raised upon a cross

The snake, the sin, the albatross

With light infused, a third degree

For the dark inside of me.

 

It seeps into each poor embrace

Of lust and comfort held from grace,

To wrench the good out of God

And turn the staff for devilís rod.

 

I am the nail that seeks to hold

The hand of a groom cuckold

Pressed by service into death

By fervid fault left bereft.

 

O raise this nail to Your flesh

So soon to fall to her breast,

Thus in You Iíll be enthroned and

covered by the blood disowned.

 

Transformed by Love into life

This nail, become a faithful wife

Cleaved with remains that redeem

And convene a kingdom unseen.

Ash Wednesday, 2003

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SUFFER

 

A lifetime of pain in a grain of sand
but no pearl buys
Just chafing, straining, aching to
cover up the lies

The lies of guilt-free innocence
the claim of purity
all filled up in self-content --
immaturity

To yank the grain from oyster bed
is to steal a cross
not borne by Saving Jesus Christ
but created dross

The dross of self-respect, self-love
twisted from zeal
to garner sweat-soothed sympathy
never to heal

LB (with hope the ending changes)

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I spy threads whizzing through the wind
Sheer glints of sizzle and speed
Never alighting, always flying, flying, soaring
They tantalize and lift the suggestion of more

More, more, more than this earth
So great and yet so poor, this clay
That cannot hold the surreal or sublime
Certainly not the fleeting kind

That floats in drifts and spurts
flickering through a slant-lit room
making heaven's presence known
in visions far from outstretched hands

Like an opalescent apple in the air
One so tasty, bright and perfect
But not meant for human teeth
A swift summoning of forever food

To tempt a morbid soul at rest
With sightings of what's not to glimpse
A charge of spiritual solace,
A kinetic angels' jubilee

Flirty, fissioned creatures hover, hover
So nebulous like shimmering heatwaves
To catch sight of but not to touch
and stay some more and cleave+

 

Feast of the Guardian Angels 2002

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TODAY'S COMMENTARY

 

Scrunched up, corner-bound,
Clad in rags and stench
The prophet lies away from love
And plays the untermensch

To actors found in skylit sails
Their cell phones never silent
A warm brigade of plushly made
Mutineers inviolate

No subterranean scope for them
No grasping for remains
Only freshly sculpted fare
For sweet scions' reign

While the stepson scrounges low
A ferment of forlorn
Haste away in innocence
To greedy overlords

Betraying every law of sea
To chair their own demise
No walking on the water planned
For futures compromised

A yachtsman's view, a bounteous wave
Beckons to proud few
While anchor-bound beneath the sound
The febrile masses hew

Lazarus is the incident
From which we turn our gaze
A twisted remnant of a man
Splayed into decay

While above the masthead flies
"Enron's staff is doomed!"
The ship of fate's plots await
Lazarus entombed

But not for long the banishment
The castaway forbid
For longing waits the saddened mate
And holy heritage hid

From the router, rank and rich
Clad in lupine pelt
A self-promoting scion sees
Finally more than gelt

But too late for self-admiring
Mariners sunk in stone
Indifference is a lonely path
And Lazarus is not alone.

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No elegant beam but a splinter borne on wind
a splinter in His heart for my sins
Chipped from a log that made the sorrows grow
O Happy Fault? or bitter foe?

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An Easter Serenade

 

 

Rise! O rise, you little one
Teetering on the edge of a scalpel
Like flotsam on a paddle.
The shifting lee is not too great for you.

Turn into safety, into the weathered palm
Of a once-dead Savior
Who glares at your killing
And melts into love for you.

Overcome the fraud of life without life,
A pounding heart shrinking
From a salt-choked cesspool.
Sewage is not your fate!

Rise up, please, you tiny knight!
The crusade against you is a crooked cross
Fashioned by fashion and a bloodless vein
Of a dead heart.

Cry out, you little one and find solace!
Your executioner's hand is limp
And cannot forbid your soul
Brimming into glory.

Take heart and see with converse eyes
The holiness of life without regret,
The dream of One who welcomes
The frailest and the gross.

O joyous mite, o radiant wretch!
How beautiful a blob washed pure by God
Through a white-clad monster.
Grow into glee.

Rise into stunning sight despite
The attempt to drag you into offal!
You are my awful hope,
Prolonged by oaths of mercy.

Emerge! For without your still-born hope
Where is mine, where is ours?
A trust baptized in blood
Is your fetal gift.

O littlest of the little
Be unafraid of torture and of promise.
The illusory grasp of evil
Brings deliverance from death.

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The only way I can be washed clean

Is to have Your blood on my hands

A beautiful thought?

No, a most terrible one.

To think that the path of purity

is laced with guilt for murder

It is a shock,

A drain that reminds me of plunging

into a sapping morass

Blood on my hands --

Your blood --

The blood of a God who loves me

And sets me free

by allowing me to murder Him!

Through my guilt He washes me

With the proof of His incarnation

He bathes me.

Unsettling.

Bracing.

Condemning

But thatís the way mercy comes Ė

Through condemnation.

It is only the condemned

who plead mercy.

And I am a small prisoner

Liberated by blood.

Not merely a transfusion

But a transubstantiation of myself.

From killing to redemption

From sin-filled to sin-freed

I wish I could think of pretty words for it,

But the truth is my soul is nearly a corpse

dripping with my Saviorís blood,

and it is only so that I am reborn

He bathes my murderous hands

With the evidence of my guilt

Ė and His innocence Ė

And I arise

Like a fossil brought from two dimensions

To more than three.

I hear about the bloodbaths (of war)

And the bloodbath You give

is the only one I can take seriously

But it is an awful bath Ė

A bath in a grave of guilt.

What kind of bath takes place in a grave?

Only the one in which You take my place.

The bath of life for death Ė

Mulch for a fading tree.

I canít picture a knight who falls in blood

for me, only a fool.

A knight hanging on a hill for a fool.

A bloody fool

With murderous hands

And a mind yearning to deny, deny, deny

Plausible guilt?

O happy fault, they say.

How can this fool be happy

Dripping Your blood?

But I am, and so grateful.

So grateful to be a bathed and re-formed fool,

A bloody fool.

 

November 27 & 28, 2001

 

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Monologue

God is an inanimate object?
That is what we say
When we nail him to a piece of lumber
Like a specimen in science class
Penetrating him only by force
[gentle breeze]
with the imposition of our wills
"You will stay in your place!"
"You will not bother me!"

We look at him like an object
"It looks human. It doesn't look divine."
What is divine?
Is it a lump of flesh that won't even squeal
When we step on it?
How can that be divine?
It's an object. A thing.
It is to be moved and unmoved according to my plan.

I like to look at God because he makes me feel better
I can rub him on like aftershave
And smell good.
People know I'm clean
Because I've washed myself with God.
Dorothy Sayers said we've declawed the lion of Judah
and turned him into a household pet
but he isn't a pet.

He is an object that doesn't cry
And doesn't look for our food.
He's something to pin down,
With nails like push pins on our project board
A voodoo doll for our spells
"Here, do this [with pin slashing this way]!"
"No, do that!"
And the object puts up with it

The God of all the universe
Of every thing becomes an object
Not of our affection but of our rage and listlessness
"Don't move!"
"You stay where you are!"
[with us]
You will not manipulate me
I will tie your hands and break your heart
And you will be my object

So I can be myself
Please myself
See only myself

Why do you look like a mirror?
I don't want a mirror.
I don't need light to see.
Don't object, you object.
Don't object to me.
I know who you are, what I am
And I will not be cowed into a quivering ball
Borne by an angry God

God's little plaything
Hah! Who does this Therese think she is?
She got it all wrong.
You are mine.
I will do with you what I will
I will throw you away when you bug me,
when you try to tell me
I shall not be defaced

I AM defaced!
I AM degraded!
Don't you see, you stupid thing?
Don't you see
you corpse,
you lump on rotted wood?
[sinking]
You are nothing!

I'm tired. Will you pick me up?
Be my cantilever?
Come on, God.
Wake me up.
Get up from your cross
And help me out of bed.
The silky sheets that used to caress
Are strangling me.

I will spray you on and be refreshed
And you will be my object
A good little object
A tidy object
A beautiful object
That loves me

But how can an object love?
How can an object...

10/4/01
The Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi

 

 

 

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For the Voice

Herod, you deemed that he would die
A headless corpse on a cry
Of spoiled lust and fervid lies
For blood soaked oath
You comprised

You chose the favor of the men
The comfort of the viper's den
O'er the voice that howled apart
You took his head
But not his heart

A bather blessed, you soak in sin
Succumbing for a churlish spin
A turn of hip and winsome smile
From the depths
of human wile

Herod, Herod, must you fall
With scented skin and vitriol?

The voice who called you loved you so
Unlike the whore, the Romeo
Who spent the poison of the young
To flirt with ruin now undone

By the very one you spurned
When you struck his servant down
The former of your fickle soul
The kin of John, the just Surround

Symmetry was thus denied
Listing favored to abide
We fools of quisling's line!
Who love the toast more than the wine

Backslapping pawns, backstabbing king
You will not win the reckoning
The game is finer than you know
The victory more than rodeo

The calf you slew to court renown
Is God's garnet in the crown
He formed so fond for you to wear
The mark of love turned to dare

From a child of Satan's hand
A mission born of contraband
You do not know, or do you still
The choice you made for worldly will?

The Feast of the Martyrdom of Saint John the Baptist
August 29, 2001

 

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My father (not yet in heaven)

I value your name

You scraped to provide

Free of blame


Your kingdom is small

A home of forty years

Blessed with love

Cleansed by monarchís tears

 

The heart you gave me

Broken and repaired

Fills the pining for

Godís only heir

 

It is the pulse you raced

To set with your fine

Mettle of the fair

And righteousness divine

 

Shelter after shelter

You fashioned by your hands

Now wrought with cracks

No grasp, but demands

 

Naked and vague

You make the fretful path

A cavalry of care

Reduced to bubblebath

 

Raised from the tub

Only with help

You stumble to snooze

An eighty-year old whelp

 

Tilt in and out of peace

Partly through the gate

The future Godís will

The present come late

 

My father indeed

A gift of daily bread

Forgotten by praise

But in faith led

 

Wizened by pain

Trembling like a foal

You, a great man

A spark of Josephís soul

 

Give me your hand

Once more in trust

You took mine so long

The exchange is just

 

Pray for me O Dad

Within your lonely lea

Stretch blind for the sun

And be set free

 

Feast of the Immaculate Conception, 2000

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"Aloft, enthroned in rue and strife"

 

upon reading "Dominus Iesus"

 

Aloft, enthroned in rue and strife

Our able eagle goes

In every land he kisses

He meets the sybilled foe

 

Still he flies aboard

The wings of his devise

In him pulse the cells

Of the Lord of skies

 

The mission imperative

For a Roman see:

The passing of the world

From idolatry

 

The eagle flocks alone

In navigating sores

Healing leprous cracks

With only the Lord

 

And his fissured face

Looks like those he heals

Itís the face of Christ

In love unpeeled

 

Where will eagle land -

In desert or in cave?

He will rest in me

Through his see Iím saved.

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In the deep deep storms of green

the trees rustling in thunderous rage

all the worldís suspended peace is kept out of sight

in the leaves He hides behind

Ire rains into our hearts

with poisonous disdain

and still He keeps Himself

for us to seek

a King content to reign

In the forest in the drops

in the glimpse of veins

that carry us away

into drifts of harsh denial

even as the green storm

demonstrates His power

While we battle in the world

of darkness just outside the entrance

He awaits the calm in us

that designates His presence.

In the storm of deepest green

of envy of our Lord

He branches out to us enfold

the scaffold we implore

He reaches every dripping tendril

limpened from the fight

and says to us in softest tones

Give up, the stormís alright.

 

+11/96

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Our Lady of the Visitation

With child, always with child

Mother fuses streams

Of woe and slights and doubts

To find a humble welcome

Recognition of the power

Of saying yes to God

While young and frail

To embark on that trail

Of sorrow boundless joy

A way of light and death

Calvary for an open door

First trodding in weariness

Muck, fear, and faith

To that embrace of love

That says who you are

And who is with you

Falling through a doorway

Into hope offered by a friend

Who sees in you

Our Lord

Our Lady

           5/31/00

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String bean

Cornflower

all made to Thee

all gone into ground

so to be set free

With sun and rain

the air regain

emerging from the soil

and all before again renew

in spring our Ladyís foil

Easter lilies

summer rose

to be the best repose

of gathering moss

the Sonís great cost

for us, for us He grows

To cover us with His leaf

of light and sultry breeze

and give reflections of His love

in earth and on His knees

The plants do sing

of Him and Her

in their dirt residence

and we aloft in their delight

perceive our Recompense+

 

4/96

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O Good Jesus

In thanks we pray

For tears You send to cleanse

We thank You, Lord

For water to bless and warm

For fingers to search and soothe

For trials to purify

For sadness to see Your pain

For grief to bind us from life through death

For blinks of bliss in heaven

For friends to buoy us in the tide

For Your Church to lead us home

For a Mother to give us You

For the saints to wait in joy

For the silence of yearning

For the vibrant strain of love

For adversaries who bring us closer

For chasms that separate us from evil

For psalms and balms

and the peace in righteous anger

 

 

 

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Dear Lord of my heart,

take me to Yours.

Enfold me in each beat,

the pulse of Your life-giving force.

Take this ache of sinfulness

and silent separation

and replace it with Your fluid,

Your easy flow.

Shape me to Your model,

stitch me to Your garment,

clothing You, wrapping You,

pulling You close to my breast

so cold without Your Body.

Apart from You

I am no form.

Away from You

I am no matter.

Cut off from You

I am no mind.

Mind me, form me, make me matter.

Dear Lord of my heart,

Master of my will,

let love be done.+

 

7/9/96

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It is the fifth day of this fever

and I am beginning to feel

that I will never be well again.

The cough mercifully wanes --

only comes every five minutes now

like a jailer gleefully rattling those

keys of confinement before the caged prisoner.

I do not pray for You to take this all away,

for am sure it can be well used

and if one soul as pitiful as I am

can be brought closer to You

in some mysterious, vague, and merciful

way in Your great goodness, let it be.

Strange how in Your New Testament times

You healed those with faith, hailing their belief

that brought the cure.

Ever since, You seem to be backtracking,

sending illness to those with faith

(or so it seems). We have the glories of martyrdom --

the decapitations, roastings, toastings, splinterings,

consumption (by lions and by germ).

Your saints were so happy to die for You

or were they really squawking as they went,

wrenched with the fear that You would not, after all,

come to claim them?

Lord, turn this fever of 101 degrees into a turn for You.

Help me to believe all good will prevail
even as the fog settles in my mind

like an unwelcome spectator barging through

the barricades and demanding first place,

shoving all the first-born aside.

I am weary, Lord, and inclined

to give up and let resentment take me to its sticky briar.

Help me to smell the sweetness of Your caress

amidst the coughing and the aching and the pounding

and the intermittent wrenching of the lower digestive tract.

Make this sputtering flashlight shine on.+

 

2/4/97

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God in a Box Ignored

 

Shoved inside by a wicked tongue

the Lord of baptism lies

in spit and solitude.

Captive within a sunken temple

the Cornerstone is mashed

by a self-drunk builder

who comes to new life with a jest

and a quest for wine.

Standing tall as a New Orleans tomb

he makes of himself a grave

for the risen Lord.

Ignoring the holy box,

he chats of garages and stifled plans

under the apse and statuary.

For him I am not worthy

becomes I am not worth enough

for my shelter is not fine

and my constraints unfair.

I will cuss and chuckle before the Lord

and will I be appeased?

I am, I am

eager to taste, but not of this,

this sanctuary's host.

The tombstone is my lips

the death shroud my smile.

The risen Lord is in me

and all I see is leaky casket

in the dripping of the font

that keeps me from my party.

I smack my flanks

and await with relish

the end of ceremony and

beginning of the feast.

The dry wafer moistened

with my seal is just

an appetizer for true repast.

I am a ravenous vessel

enbalmed by regicide

and chafing to be lowered.

Enclosing God in a box

I deign not to look inside,

yet stand and dance and joke

in the path of the vineyard

but not keeping watch.

I do not sleep.

I am wide awake --

and yet am mummified,

not even a reliquary,

just a hollow laughing tomb.+

 

4/7/97

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        Saints of God we thank you.
        Saints of God we recognize you.
        Saints of God we ask you to shine His light upon us.
        We beg the lifting of every veil that impedes our sight.
        We tender our resignation to His holy will to you,
        that you would strengthen us through your intercession.
        Saints of God, whose glory you sing,
        Prepare for us a way of delight in Him
        So that all we are and do
        is a glimpse of the perfect joy of heaven.
        Saints of God, enfold us in your prayers
        Warm us in your shining garment
        stitched in love by Him.
        Keep us near to the Lord
        with your constant guidance.
        Whisper to us the map that points always to Jesus.
        Saints of God, who wait for us in eager anticipation,
        who reach out your arms in His invitation,
        Who share with us the Blood of life,
        The Blood we carry in our veins through His Mother,
        Saints of God, whose praise bursts all reservation,
        ready for us a place in your midst where we will dwell in His kingdom
        and proclaim our allegiance in Him forever.
        Amen.

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O flower living in a tree
And wondering what the sky would be
Beyond the rustling green and gold
The leaves of every spring foretold

Would it be the blue of heart
The beating of a life apart?
Or would it be the gray of mind
An echo of the nether kind?

You seem to shrink from thinking of
The possibility of love
Far from the bark you ride
The cloven shield of wood astride

Still you peek from under limb
To catch the glimpse of beauty dimmed
In the sky you cannot grasp
From the stance of common sap

0 flower reaching in your home
Furl forth your petal gloam
And fall into the night of trust
That brings in morning wanderlust

To bare the shimmer sky of light
Sheer yellow in its rays of sight
And blossom in its warmth of glee
0 flower, come to Me.+

11/25/97

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Dear sunken wood
which the Savior embraced
and to which He clung
bring His love to me
and strengthen me to carry Him
to all who see in strife
only grief and pain

Buoy me to shoulder you
from weakness and in favor
with sorrow and in greatest joy
hold me to hope's fervent watch
so all your splinters are
but a blink of His eyelash
on my pride, clearing it away.

Dear wood, sustain us
in suffering and offer your support
while we are bent with sin
bring forth all our fears
to be washed away
by the tears of Christ
left behind on you

0 saving sign
lift us from the plight
of seeing only wrath in you
for when we bear your weight
it is Jesus whose blood
floods through us
and His pain that heals

Dear broken timber
felled in our hearts,
our Father's blessed grace,
be a constant presence of
the sanctifying gift
by which we are
made whole

0 tree of outpoured life
meet us with your Master's touch
through the nail marks sought
not cowed but conciliated
in His surrendering balm
Show us in your stain-blessed burls
the innocence of love.

Amen, blessed cross.+

9/14/97

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Lord, to collapse in You is a fond, fond thought
a desire often felt upon accepting You into me
as you want me to be in You.
How precious is the time when You and I are one,
so closely entwined that Your Blood is mine.
To sink into the depths of Your presence
is a poignant longing --
no, more.

It is the insistence of a heart that yearns to be free,
so engulfed in Your love and majesty
that all it can do is to fall, fall forever into You.
No strains of gravity or resistance,
no impulse of my own except to be in You
with every stretch of hand, each flex of skin,
every flutter of a thought that enters my mind.
Always You in Your magnificence and generosity,
always You in the shoulders that bore the cross.
Lord, to know that You are the Triune God
seeking me, pursuing me, feeding me, inviting me
to drink of Your cup -- a cup of sorrow and joy and salvation
makes me want to collapse and be at Your feet in worship,
even as You are reaching to mine, to raise me up to You.
Fill me with Your air, Your life offering breath.
And as I want to sink, lift and hold my hand
and float me, weightless and free to You.+

8/2/97

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Mother, today I write to you to seek your soothing touch because I see myself so far from your Son. When you are assumed into heaven, take my heart with you and place it at His feet. I am a cowed and selfish servant, imprisoned by the desire for respect. Show me the One who received all the disrespect of history and still absorbs the pain and yet loves. Introduce my heart to Him and ask Him to heal it with His Blood. Let my heart gush only His life and not the stifling death into which I want to sink with self-protective cloak. He sees it all and knows the mask which hides only more sin. Bring me to Him and Him to me so that His permeating peace will reign. Amen.+

8/11/97

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O dear baptist,
        who rained the shower of repentance on the people,
        who leaped in joy at the coming of the Lord,
        who fasted in the desert of self-denial and feasted in the glorification of the Holy,
        who preached without retraction the message of renewal,
        who endured the contempt of those whom you so lovingly admonished, who gave your life for something far greater,
        and who shared in the Blood of our Divine Saviour,
pray for us!+

6/24/97

 

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If I were to say
the breadth of time Your praise
all that I could give
would be reflected rays

Of smile and kiss and bliss
stretching with the light
that only You imbue
God's incarnate hue

No matter with my lustre
the pale veneer of health
I can only muster
the Master's welcome stealth

The Center of the hidden blaze
that burrows into dust
to set this mote afire
raising ever higher

To the core always yearning
I catch what sets me free
joyful to discover
the Center is beneath

Not on vaulted mountain
Not on comet trail
Not in angels' octaves
but beneath our hearts He hails

God is in the ground
the clay of what we are
He joined us in this breach
He knows tissue
He knows scar

I love the simple Man
the chortling baby's cry
The God who would grant
the chance to lullabye

The Lord to rest in us
the mite of earth to see
the glance of His love
In man eternally+

2/26/97 & 3/17/97

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Holy Innocents

How encouraging to us that you are called holy!
How great is the grace you were given!
You who were silent, yet whose blood cries out for justice
You who could not fend for yourselves in the world and were destroyed by
those with worldly power
You who were used by evil for self-protection, yet by grace transcended
that evil
You who were cast in the role of invader and slain in the interest of
self-defense
You who were deemed inconvenient and were swept away
You who were victims of man's choice for death through self-exaltation
You who could not stand and yet are tall in the eyes of the Lord and His
Church
Pray for us, smallest of our brothers, that the grace which you received
will penetrate our hearts.
Help us to die for Christ in every moment, so that we may live in Him.
Amen.

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                                                    Oh to have a ball
                                                    to dance away with Him
                                                    who knows all the steps
                                                    and leads with cherubim

                                                    To be in His arms
                                                    and keep the perfect flow
                                                    Elusive unity
                                                    we so obstruct below

                                                    Music of the life of joy
                                                    to succor every ear
                                                    Rhythm of the helping heart
                                                    to cherish us so near

                                                    Oh the heavenly waltz
                                                    the diaphanous divine
                                                    that in partnership exalts
                                                    our awkward moves so blind

                                                    May I in my fumbled haste
                                                    slow down to catch Your tune
                                                    and every misstep  wrought by me
                                                     be remade into boon

                                                    Through Your mercy played
                                                    on and on to bliss
                                                    a lovers' team of unison
                                                    transcribed by Mister Liszt

                                                    Oh my fluid Lord
                                                    who calls me into dance
                                                    set me free from dissonance
                                                    let me be entranced

                                                    With Your melody so pure
                                                    caught up upon my lips
                                                    and all the whirl in Your hold
                                                    eternal complement.+

                                                                10/9/96

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            Melon spray
            singing You
            Baling hay
            singing You
            Goofy grin
            singing You
            Welcome in
            singing You
            Picnic chants
            singing You
            Forward glance
            singing You
            Play reins
            singing You
            Odd refrains

            singing You
            Leggy tan
            singing You
            Frying pan
            singing You
            Olympic torch
            singing You
            Summer scorch
            singing You
            Traffic jam
            singing You
            Beach strand
            singing You
            Lovers hold
            singing You
            Truths untold
            singing You
            Heart ache
            singing You
            Transom break
            singing You
            Silent touch
            singing You
            Wanting much
            singing You
            Moment's bliss
            singing You
            Chances missed
            singing You
            Work recess
            singing You
            Furtive rest
            singing You
            Creeping yawn
            singing You
            Brewing dawn
            singing You
            Old routine
            singing You
            Trampoline
            singing You
            Wiping dirt
            singing
You
            Soothing hurt
            singing You
            Bee balm
            singing You        
            Breathe calm
            singing You
            Morning walk
            singing You
            Summer stalk
            singing You
            Blessed sweat
            singing You
            Psalm met
            singing You
            Blind faith
            singing You
            My wraith
            singing You

            All You are
            I cannot see
            still Your song
            is near to me+

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                            0 Lord of life and laughter
                            give me what I'm after
                            a song of joy
                            a sweet envoy
                            to bring me home to You.

                            Bear me up on angels' breath
                            by my only mortal death
                            Shake me loose from this debris
                            recreate me clean and free

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0 Lord of shining love
send to me Your Dove
to fan me with His wings
and take my soul to Spring+

 

            10/96

                                  

 

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  0 Holy Simeon
  who could not rest
  until he saw the Savior,
  who recognized Him at once
  and paid him homage,
  who foresaw the pain
  of His mother's pierced heart,
  who commended the Messiah 
          to Israel
  through his welcoming vision,
  who proclaimed the wondrous
joy
  of knowing the Lord,
  and held the baby King
 
in his eager arms,
  Devout Simeon,
  contented in the Light,
  pray for us.+

  10/8/96

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Asleep in Your arms
I am a babe
Awake in Your dreams
I am in You adrift
Buffetted and balmed
Tossed and canned
Gurgling in glee
in my Father's hug
Clouds all dispersed
in Your smile
My baldness proclaims
Your strength
To catch and guard,
free and retain
With shouts of joy
I cling to You
the Heart beseeching
beckoning, retreating
I am Your child
Your play
and I laugh and laugh
and You join in
even when I erupt
Just a babe in the tree
The leaf of Your limbs
Happy happy happy+

6/96

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photos on this page taken by Lisa B.

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