Author Archives: Be Holy

Under the Fig Tree

by

untitled-175

“I Saw You Under the Fig Tree.”

All our yesterdays are forgotten
With the rush of Tomorrow.
All the words fade away.
Images are fleeting.
All praise passes into oblivion.
The compliments lost,
As unrecorded history.

All things are sand
Falling through the fingers of the Future.
None endure the winds of Time.

So, what of me?
What is the why of me?
Why do You long for me?
I feel your desire pleading
In all about me.

“I saw you under the fig tree.”
What did you see of me, O Lord?
Did you see my yearning?
Were You witness to my sin?
Did you hear the prayer I whispered,
The call of my heart.

Did you see resolve written on my face?
Did you see the love
Swelling my heart?
What did you see of me, Oh Lord,
Under the fig tree?

Because You saw me
Under the fig tree,
My heart opens to see You.
You reveal a world and love
Beyond all that is matter,
Beyond all that once mattered,
Surpassing all that is,
A world of God ,
A world of God in all,
And for all,
Dying to live in all.

I didn’t see You,
Until now,
This precious Now,
Surviving my mortality,
With the reason of my being,
With the holy vision of Thou.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

You, Before the Altar

by

Opening my eyes
And lifting my head
From my prayer,
My eyes fell upon you,
My friend.

Your steady gaze
Fixed on the naked Savior,
Your arms crossed
Over your breast
And you,
Lost to this world,
Spoke my prayer.
You, in iconic stature,
Embodied my heart’s cry.

Bowing my soul,
I turned within
To pray with clarity
In humble poverty of spirit,
With Faith’s certainty,
The Lord had heard,
And smiled on my desire.

Rising with my closing “Amen”,
I looked
Only to find your place
Before the altar,
Now abandoned,
Yet the holy sight is seared
On my impressionable spirit.
It lingers still.

Your gifted presence
Shall long capture,
And hold fast
The essence of being
At which I hope to arrive,
In the tabernacle of my heart,
As in pleading it resounds.
Anchored to an image
Of prayerful adoration
Living in my mind’s eye.

My God be adored,
And Your children
Forever graced.

Consolation of Eve

by

Crayon and pencil by Sr. Grace Remington, OCSO
Copyright 2005, Sisters of the Mississippi Abbey

Consolation of Eve

Mother Eve, waiting long,
Your bones resting in the earth,
At Adam’s side,
From which you were taken,
Waiting, waiting for the Woman.

Sustained in weary life by a Promise.
Enduring the grave,
Counting the centuries,
Waiting for Good News.
The Virgin is with Child. Rejoice!

©2011 Joann Nelander All rights reserved

ABBA WAITS

by

ABBA WAITS
While I wandered,
Wandered far,
Abba waits.
Winding roads and forests,
Miles and mountains,
Abba waits.
Husks and devolution,
Drunken prostitution,
All the while, Abba waits.
Humbled in revelation,
Plans of feeble protestation,
Still Abba waits.
Homeward, humbled,
Bowed and broken,
Eyes to the horizon, Abba waits
Heart aflame,
Running, embracing, gifting a son,
For from eternity, Abba waits

By Joann Nelander

A Votive Heart

by

A Votive Heart

Sweet Savior, I give to Thee my heart.
Make it as Thine own,
That it may love those in the world,
And those, having past from its bounds,
Not ready to see the Father’s glory.

With my every breath,
I wait on Thee,
Pleading the perfection of my cherished loves.
Pray, lift the veils persisting to obscureThy Beauty.

Let me be a living prayer,
A votive candle,
Burning on the altar of Thy Cross,
Whose smoke rises as incense
With Thy Resurrection from the dead.
I am a captive to Thy call upon my heart.

I draw each breath,
For those You  give me in this life,
By blood, as friend, foe, neighbor, passing stranger,
And those still alien to Thy love,
All, whom the Father desires
For life in You and in Thy glory.

© 2017 Joann Nelander

Who is the Poorest of the Poor?

by

Who is the poorest of the Poor?
Is it not the one deprived of womb?
Is it not the one gone unnamed?
Given a frame
But denied rightful claim,
Stripped bear of place,
No space to grow,
Deprived of a proper birth?
Is it not the one evicted,
Before drawing it’s first breath,
Whose beating heart is silenced,
With the sanction of the Court!?
With privacy,
Lest the whole world hear it’s cry?

Though a mother forget her child,
The Father of all fathers
Will not, no never, forget.
He has a place,
And a name,
For all the poor,
For the poorest
Of the poor,
Called “Beloved”
And “Poor No More”.

©2012 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved