I am the weaned child,
Upon Your knee.
Forgetful of time,
I curl Your hair about my fingers,
And tug at Your heartstrings.
My toys, the shiny objects of yesterday,
Lie by the stairs,
By which I began my ascent to You.
Comfort me.
Cuddle me.
Tickle me.
You spend Your universe,
As You had always planned,
Delighting one so small,
The least of the Children of Man.
© 2012 Joann Nelander
Words are swirling
Like leaves,
Lifted heavenward,
On bursts of emotion,
Only to settle quietly,
As the storm of love passes
Into Abiding Presence.
By Joann Nelander
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Come Lord,
Feed Your Church;
It’s Sunday!
Command us,
“Rise” with You;
It’s Sunday!
Day of the Lord,
Day of Promise,
Day of supplication,
Day of fulfillment.
O Sunday!
Gathered with the Mother,
In the sunshine presence
Of celestial hosts,
Rejoicing with the Chosen,
Celebrate!
It’s Sunday.
©2012 Joann Nelander
“Who do you say I am?”
Jesus asked.
Who do you say I am?
The jars lined the walls.
Each one marked:
A weight and words,
“Products of conception.”
Parts, just parts!
Parts, just parts?
Who do you say I am?
©2012 Joann Nelander
I love waking up
In the Heart of Jesus.
Before my eyes even open
I feel You all about me.
You are looking at Me
As Mary looked on You
In slumber serene.
I am stirring.
You are smiling Your “Good morning”
I see You are not alone
I blow my heartfelt kisses
To Your happy entourage.
Heavenly family, you, too,
Welcome me to New Day.
Yes, Sweet Jesus, I am ready.
You’ve watched over me in sleep;
Now, again, I pick up my cross.
Walk the hours of today,
As Light upon my way.
By Joann Nelander
Copyright 2012
Be Holy! 