Who is the Poorest of the Poor?

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

Work of Love

Make of every heart a tabernacle,
A holy space,
Home to Thee,
An ark,
A Mercy seat,
Where Cherubim
Spread their wings
And constantly adore.

May heaven alight
On one who prays,
And rest on that blessed soul,
As Pentecost anew.

Across the face of the earth
Find hallowed home,
Ciborium for Thy Blood,
Chalice to cup Thy loveliness,
And priestly hands to hold Thee aloft,
To smile upon Your world in dire need.

Be,  O, Bread of angels,
Ever present on Your altar,
Closer than my breath,
Friend and companion
Light and Bridegroom,
All in all,
Everywhere and everyone
Transforming,
Sinner to saint,
And temple of Your Holy Spirit.

©2012 Joann Nelander

 

Refuge of Sinners

Refuge of Sinners

I sit in the sunshine of Your New Day.
Forgiveness has washed over me.
At Your Word,
Mercy has rained upon Your Beloved.

Hear now, You say to me:
You are safe, My little one.
You have chosen to hide yourself
In the Wound of My Sacred Heart.

The world about is cold and unholy,
Yet you are surrounded by angels of Light.
Warm and welcoming is the Living Flesh
That is your constant refuge.

I enfold you,
As you have  made My Body,
Your Food, your Heart,
Your own.

Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

Who is the Poorest of the Poor?

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

Work of Love

Make of every heart a tabernacle,
A holy space,
Home to Thee,
An ark,
A Mercy seat,
Where Cherubim
Spread their wings
And constantly adore.

May heaven alight
On one who prays,
And rest on that blessed soul,
As Pentecost anew.

Across the face of the earth
Find hallowed home,
Ciborium for Thy Blood,
Chalice to cup Thy loveliness,
And priestly hands to hold Thee aloft,
To smile upon Your world in dire need.

Be,  O, Bread of angels,
Ever present on Your altar,
Closer than my breath,
Friend and companion
Light and Bridegroom,
All in all,
Everywhere and everyone
Transforming,
Sinner to saint,
And temple of Your Holy Spirit.

©2012 Joann Nelander

 

Who Am I?

Who Am I?
You, Father God,
Revealed Yourself
To Your servant Moses.
“I am Who Am. ”

You are existence
In uncreated simplicity
And immaterial totality.
My thoughts and knowledge
Are without substance or form,
A mystery of being,
An image of Your Essence.

My prayer is a begging
To shape the me of me
Into the Person of Your Son,
That my “I am,”
Be as You Are.

May what I will be
Take Life
In Your Only Begotten One,
To make me
Fit for Familial Love,
When mortal life be done.

Copyright Joann Nelander 2011

All rights reserved