Always
I have never been alone.
As conscious of You,
As conscious of self.
Always, Your Presence,
Always, the sense of You, near,
Always, You, here .
You, listening,
You, watching,
You, waiting.
Patience,
Provision,
Plenty.
Another year,
Another now,
A promised tomorrow.
A Hand to hold,
A beating Heart,
Always, You, Loving.
Copyright 2017 Joann Nelander
lionessblog.com
Jo
EASTER MORN
Holy Mother Mary,
I invite Your presence in my life.
As you look on my days,
Listen to my prayers,
Watch my growth through the years,
Touch me with the graces
Of.your Motherly prerogative,
You who walked the way of the Cross
With your Holy Son,
From the instant of His Incarnation
In your sacred womb,
Be beside me
In my every moment.
Meet me in my joys and sorrows
And impart your maternal blessing.
May my soul grow holy,
As you rush to lift me,
When I fall,
Just as you interceded
For Jesus in His Passion.
He fell under the weight of my sins,
And you cried out to heaven.
Hear now my heart
Beseeching thee.
Standing by His Cross,
See me in His Suffering
And receive me as your own.
Take the moments,
And all the years,
Of my existence,
In your arms,
As you did the Body of your Son,
When He was lowered from His Cross.
He wrought my Salvation
In that fearsome Hour.
Wrap my years in His shroud
And when I wake,
Rejoice in this,
My Easter morn.
Heartbeat
It is not I who cause my heart to beat.
I am the recipient of life,
The legatee of form.
My heartbeat continues, unabated,
Until You say, this much and no more,
Then and only then,
Will my soul take leave,
Departing this earth, this time.
I will my heart’s beating,
Sound as a prayer in Your ear,
That You may hear me murmuring love,
Throbbing with desire in my groaning,
That my imperfection resound as supplication,
Beating upon Your breast, a plaintiff reverberation,
Crying and wooing,
As a babe trusting, trusting.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
A thousand trumpets mark Your path.
The lips of angels tremble and anticipate
As hour fast approaches,
For Gabriel’s stormy blast
Ushering the Age’s end,
When on the clouds You will descend,
To come again as way You went .
Sun of Justice with Spirit Sword,
Your Word to cut between the marrow and the bone,
All that stands the test of Fire,
You gather home.
Refuse and stubble
Immolated in furnace heat,
As passing in Your Hallowedness
You devour all that is not meet.
The trumpets’ blare gives way
To music of celestial harps,
And Miriam song sounded strong.
As the martyrs chime,
Finally coming forth from beneath the Altar,
To sing their tune and time.
Holy chorus, at long last,
To celebrate and sing
Triumphant Alleluias
For Salvation’s Mercy King.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
“Fiat.”
To Mary’s “Fiat,”
I say, “Amen. Amen. Amen. ”
“Fiat”, my gift to You, my King.
I give You, here in my heart, Mary’s “Fiat”,
That so inflamed the heart of Your Father,
That He gave her His Kingdom,
Enfleshing You, His Son.
The instant Mary formed her ascent in her heart and mind,
And her lips forms the word “Fiat”,
You, my God, began Your Human life in the womb of the Virgin.
O Mary, more than a chalice,
For of your seed sprang God,
Fully human, Fully Divine ,
Of you,
Eucharist was conceived
In Immaculate Splendor.
Thanksgiving began in the heaven of your Soul
And took flesh from the heaven of Your being.
Amen. Amen. Amen.
Father, my gift to You
This morning,
Mary’s “Fiat”
May it ring out
From this lowly Earth
That heaven come down
And live among Men.
Rain down Truth and Beauty, born of a Virgin,
His Body,
Forever bearing her donation.
Mystery, Divine,
Remember Your Love, throughout Time.
©2011 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Lord of the centuries,
Knit, of our pain, the knots,
That mysteriously arrange themselves
Across our days.
Guide, by unseen fingers,
Each little pearl,
To form a cloth
Alive with Your Golden threads,
Infinitely more than happenstance or tragedy.
Each strand of Time a mystery,
Bathed in trial and tears,
Yet rich in Awe,
Resplendent in Beauty,
And the gracious beneficence
Of sacrificial love.
Whole cloth,
Woven into a seamless robe,
You don in majesty,
Humble and meek in triumph o’er our graves,
As Life welcomes to the Banquet,
Our souls, now clad in bodies,
One with Your Own.
© 2015 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 