Monthly Archives: February 2012

Picturqeque Timelapse Auroras

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Aurora 2012 from Christian Mülhauser on Vimeo.

Claimed in My Un-loveliness

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Accuse me not,
But stand before me,
And claim me
As Your own.
Defend me from the Accuser of Men,
By covering me with Your mantle.

The blows I do deserve
Fall on the Son,
Who loves and protects me,
Possessing me as HIs own,
Directing me along the right path,
Walking before me with Shepherd’s staff,
As I learn to recognize His Voice,
And perceive the subtleties of Spirit.

Seeing You step out of the Fire,
And stand as fortress before me,
Naming me and protecting me.
I am finally possessed,
Claimed by Love,
In my un-loveliness.
I let down my guard,
Allowing embattled walls to fall at Your feet,
To rise again as bulwarks of Faith,
Against the Foe.

Succor,
Salvation,
and Sanctity,
Are now my lot,
And You, O Lord,
My own and All.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Contemplation

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I held the ocean to my ear.
I heard it speak with peaceful roar,
And hearing I went off,
Leaving on the shore,
The secret of His presence,
But not forgetting,
What He had said
In that moment of Eternity,
Which is forever
Yet, not of Time.

© 2012 Joann Nelander

Full of Grace

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In my imperfection
I offer you the perfect.
Full of Grace,
Take up my cause.

Gracious God,
You have prepared grace
And holiness of life
For all men ,
Yet we are not ready
For Your wonders.

We delay.
We play with idols,
And take for granted
The universe that engulfs us,
As though it founded itself
And raised its own pillars.
We swim in a sea of plenty,
As though it is infinite.

Fool that I am,
May the Wise Virgin,
Trim my lamp
To light my way.
Holy Vessel of all graces
Waiting in your labor
To bring us forth,
And give us the Divine Life
Held in your treasury
For the Day
The Promised One will descend from heaven
Into my soul,
And carry me,
With all your children
To that place of safe repose.

The imperfect, washed clean,
In the waters of New Birth,
Rising perfect with resplendent Light,
As swaddling and infusion,
From El Shaddai,
the God of the Great Breast,
And the womb of the chased Virgin,
Immaculate,
Which brought forth Christ
In the unity of Trinity,
Receive again bodies
As splendid as their souls.

Singing for Peace and Believing

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Passion of a Warrior

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When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Though veins,
Piercing to the marrow of bone.

The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Yet borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.

All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.

Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accurser.

Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.

How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Poetry Picnic week 24