The flood waters of heaven
Pour over me.
Your Death holds me fast,
Drawing body and soul,
Down in Your Dying.
Flood gates open,
And yet, the sea parts.
By Your Spirit I pass over.
The soul that gives life to my body,
Now rises,
Your Spirit, giving Life to my soul.
More than a corpse
Raised from the dead,
I rise a priest, a prophet and a king,
Betrothed and free to be
What You would make of me.
copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
O Captain of my heart
On Love’s Tree
You penetrate the Lie.
You, victorious in Death,
Descend, piercing the Earth
To ransom Adam’s seed.
Scale my stony ramparts;
Pull down vanity’s tower;
Besiege the Gates of Hell.
Trumpet Your holy rage.
As with thundering steed and burnished sword,
Capture and hold fast my soul.
Call “Beloved” Your desolate one;
Call “Espoused” she who mourns
Her innocence’s demise.
Circle me about with Promise.
Covenant me in Blood Sacrifice.
Ascend on high with wedded bride..
O, Love Divine, make me Thine!
©2010 Joann Nelander
Candles on Altars
An almost burnt-down lit candle on a candle holder. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
All men are candles,
Burning on some altar.
Some disappear into nothingness,
Before worldly idols,
Unable to sustain their spark
Beyond the veil,
Into eternity.
Others light the heavens
As they are consumed
On the altar of Love,
Merging imperceptibly,
Creature with Creator.
When my wax is spent,
I pray I am not distracted
By my sin.
When I melt
Into the arms of God,
May it be that Love,
That lit my flame,
Outshines my imperfections
In holy consummation.
Burn candle, all alight
Warming with mercy rays the night,
To Penetrate hearts of friend and foe,
To soothe and mend wounds,
Dispelling darkness
With the Uncreated Light
That set creation into being.
Now and forever,
I cast myself
Into the flame,
The furnace of His Sacred Heart.
Passing through pierced side,
One with the Virgin,
Holy angels and expurgated saints of ole,
Melted in union,
I am formed anew in Christ,
With the Father and Spirit,
Candle, altar and Salvation might.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
I miss them.
I miss them all.
The years have flung them about,
Scattered them to the four winds
With little care,
And less a say.
My friends, not here,
But there,
And everywhere.
So hard to hold,
Though near, in heart,
But, oh, so very far apart.
So very dear!
I want them,
Here.
copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
Pray,
Take care
Who you turn away.
Give thought,
And ‘haps a listening ear.
In truth,
The heart of God
Beats in the beggars breast.
copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
What did they say?
The men that came, then went their way.
Seeking the One all people long to see,
They left their hearths, these Wise Men Three.
“Where is He?”; the question echoes through ages long.
As He seeks a home ‘mong busy throng.
We prayed, sang and offered gifts beneath a tree.
Because He’s come for hearts, He’s come for me.
Where is He of blessed event,
Now the festive limbs are spent?
Has He found a hearth to call a throne?
Has He your heart to be His own?
©2015 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 