Seed of Hope

The seed is alive,
With the Future.
The seed
Buried seeking light.

The one Adam,
The store of generations,
Begetting,
But not solely of himself.

One alike in nature,
But unique to the task,
Played by his side,
The delight of Paradise.

Sin entered in.
Nature, sublime,
Met the devil in his slime.
Havoc and hell followed,
On a Fall
For the all,
Yet to be.

Generation,
Degeneration,
Retribution.
No restitution,
No remedy for institution.

Generations
Living under a curse,
Dying in time.
Eden lost,
Without return.

Until the One,
The sent
The holy.
Began His reign,
Faith born.
To invite again,
To turn again
From the mire!
Unto hope.

Confronting the curse
Hanging from the cross,
Accursed,
Becoming Sin,
Sin meeting its end
In Him.

Meeting His end
Defeating the end
To be the beginning,
First born of the Dead.

To be for us
To be forever New,
New life
New hope.

Finding Adam in his grave
Dry bones moved by the Spirit.
Rise with him.

A new beginning
Rising from death
To call all to life.

The life of Adam,
Born through the ages,
Played out in generations.
Out of one, many.

He, Christ,
Descending
Gathering ,
Mending,
All ascending ,
Captive to the Light.

The seed
Become
His Life,
The future without end,
Living life without end.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

St. Vincent de Paul- memorial

“Our vocation is to go and enflame the heart of men, to do what the Son of God did, He who brought fire into the world to set it alight with His love. What else can we wish for, than for it to burn and consume all things?”

Via divineoffice.com
 




My Jesus

Be with me in my dying.
Be with me in my dying.
Be ever with me,
For as my days are numbered,
And my final journey the door to Life,
Only if it leads to You.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

Endeavor

I love the way
You keep trying
To take the beautiful,
And make it more beautiful.

Is there no city on a hill,
No mountain grandeur,
Nor sweeping vista,
That can truly satisfy,
In its worldly reality?
Having travelled all byways,
Having scaled the heights,
Plumbed the depths
As far as you dare,
Seek still you will.
You want yet more.
You always will.

Memory does not suffice,
Camera and canvas fail.
Pixels and pigments,
Even when teased to their ends,
Falter and fall short
Of the image
Engraved on your heart.

It is as though,
At some level,
You intuit.
You fear.
You suspect.
No, you truly know.

There will always be,
One more quest,
Another dream,
Perfecting,
The not yet perfect.

You glimpse the Creator in creating.
With moon and stars,
With waterfall and rainbow,
With the wilderness and the wild,
You point.

For the sum of all,
Sunrises and sunsets,
Venues and vistas,
Still will not equal,
Just simply point.

You rise to the challenge,
Build to the crescendo,
And then must wait,
Wait till the Perfect comes.

At last,
At long, long last,
To know
The One to whom creation points
To know at last
The One True,
All Beautiful,
God.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

About Today- St. Pio

Divine office.org

Music of Mother

In my beginning,

You were there,

Constant in the throbs

That matched my own.

 

When I came forth

Into the light

Into the cold,

You were my warmth,

Enfolding.

 

Now, you carry me,

At your bosom,

I sway gently

With your every move.

 

Even in sleep,

As in our earlier days,

With you surrounding me,

Your rhythm is comfort,

And your heartbeat, a lullaby.

 

Embraced, at your breast,

I learn the dance,

Loving,
I follow your lead.

 

©2016 Joann Nelander