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
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
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
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
How often I beseech
“All the angels and saints”,
Yet, fail to realize
The multitude of the holy,
I call to my side.
They do come.
They come ready to aid,
To do battle,
To protect,
And do bless.
God give me eyes,
That I may see,
For, indeed,
I am, too often,
Blind.
There are wise infrared eyes,
Spying the sky.
We see our universe at its birth.
For eons,
We knew of no such birth.
Blindness of a kind
Can kill.
A child in the womb,
Heart beating for the cameras,
Still fails
To make a Presence known.
How blind the eyes
That refuse to see.
Father of all that is,
Give me eyes of the heart,
That I may
Make a start.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’
My dearest Mother,
Take my outstretched hand,
And accompany me,
From moment to moment,
For love of God,
To loving Him, evermore purely,
That I may be a heavenly garden,
A place for the Savior’s repose,
In the midst of my everyday,
Until the angels carry me home.
copyright 2015 Joann Nelander