Lift the veil in this morass of Sin,
That faith may blossom and hope enter in.
Let the Sun of Justice shine
Upon a people in decline,
That looking up from the tyranny of power and things
Your face may captivate and solace bring.
Pour down torrents of Thy Grace
To cleanse this dry and brutal place ,
Uproot to plant anew
A Day of peace like settled dew,
That minds be bright and intellects sublime
And our only glory may be Thine.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
O Man, awaken!
On Earth, you are held accountable,
Are you not?
You sing for your supper.
You dance to life’s tune.
Only the air is free.
All else is taxed.
The first fruit is owed another.
You fear to run from the law.
You are held to a measure.!
If it be such for a man of earth,
Mortal, yet accountable,
Where will a soul, immortal,
Flee upon a coming demise?
Without the stuff of Earth,
Naked and stripped of pomp and circumstance,
Revealed as soul and spirit,
Answering not to man,
But to God,
Are we not all the more accountable?
Copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.
You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
Death with Dignity?
There is no dignity in dying.
It is dissolution,
Libation poured out,
The empty glass.
Dignity rests with the soul,
Persists, despite soiled garments,
Perseveres, midst death’s indignities.
It clothes the soul in hope.
Despite the tale the mirror tells.
Dignity confronts our demons.
It rises as limbs refuse us,
To fly free of earthly chains,
And contemplate the Face of God.
Copyright 2016 Joann Nelander
I am such a mess.
The rain falls on my soil,
And for a while I am mud.
No hint of fertility.
No hint of growth.
No hint of flowers.
Mud is self-forgetful,
A confusion of gift,
A profusion of promise.
The day will seed to my substance,
Serendipity and surprise,
Plantings for the morrow.
I shall lie here,
Loving my mud,
Waiting for the Sun.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 