I will sit here,
Speaking my heart to You.
Look on me as in a garden
Tending these flowers of love.
I water them,
Sometimes with tears,
Sometimes with sweat,
And always with the water
That flows from my Baptism.
Water my garden from above.
Make my flowers grow,
And as I tend them,
Please send your angels to plant seeds
For our eternal tomorrows,
Far off, My Love,
But soon, eternally, Now.
(C)2016 Joann Nelander
Still the many veils
Stand between us.
I know they are the weave
Of my concupiscence,
Hanging over my heart,
Weighing the corners
Of my smile,
Hiding me from You
In my shame.
Must I forgive myself
For being other
Than Your Christ?
My imperfection,
And repeated falls
Spoil my high hopes,
But I find them useful as well,
For the crushing of my pride.
The temptation to reign
In the place of God
Is Satan’s prompt,
And plays persistently,
Appealing in its disguise
As progressive,
And Evolution at its finest.
Unveiled before you
In humility
I see my call to be least,
And allow You to reign
Great in me.
Lord, triumph over vain glory,
Accomplish all
The Father desires for me,
That my baptismal garment
Of purest white
May appear
In all the colors
Of Your Glory,
God resplendent
Even in His smallest work
And humblest creature.
Precious Jesus,
Holy Gem,
Beauty, beyond my knowing,
You are God, hidden,
As diamond in the rough,
A Man, yet God, One.
It is for me
To desire You,
To call You,
To allow You,
God willing.
You will be my tumbler,
Life’s crucible.
The Rock, chipping away
At my clay.
My stoniness,
Yielding its course substance,
While I journey.
Rude being honed
To perfection.
You polish,
And reveal
Light through my layers,
The Father, shining in You,
The Sun of His Being,
Resplendent now in me,
Made glorious
In You,
Precious Jesus,
Holy Gem.
©2012 Joann Nelander
How poor am I?
No one suspects my poverty,
For I hide it
‘Neath empty bravado.
All show,
The fool fooling all
But myself.
Yet, sometimes,
I , too, believe
My haughty claims.
How poor am I?
Copyright Joann Nelander 2012
All rights reserved
No one would argue
That I exist
And live this day
On Earth.
Yet, I know
That I am with You.
Here in this place
At this Time,
I breathe Heaven’s air
As I pray
“Come Holy Spirit”
And You come,
Bringing Heaven with You.
Scriptures says,
“Heaven and Earth shall kiss”
Am I not caught
In this embrace?
“You are a new creation.”
You hear the words,
Even delight at them.
Smiling and free
You run off to play,
Tucking the Words away.
Think to steal a day.
Take out the Words.
Turn them in your heart.
With fingers of prayer,
Feel their frame,
Touch them again.
The Words do not come alone.
He Who spoke them
Descends into your heart,
Repeats His refrain,
Speaks Love again.
You are a new creation.
Each time the Words are spoken,
The creature takes on a glow,
Exists in Time
Holiness accentuated,
Grace effectuated.
Pondered and plumbed,
Their depths revealed,
An anchor of Truth
Makes them the bedrock
Of your being.
With Love’s true eyes
All is new for the seeing.
You are a New Creation.
This post in linking to week 41 poetry picnic
Be Holy! 