How can I thank You
For Your forgiveness,
For that moment,
In which You scattered
My accusers,
And took my part?As I looked up
From the mud of my despair,
Your majestic countenance
Was all.
You loomed before me,
Brighter than the Sun.Who could have imagined
Such grandeur?
You wore holiness like a crown
That more than circled Your brow.
Rather, it emanated,
As light from Your Being,
Announcing Who You are?Only humility can receive You,
And dare Your gaze.
For Your Eyes
Pierce the soul,
Revealing all.Only those crying for a Savior
Dare look up,
To confess with that glance
Their fault and nakedness,
Helpless and all pleading.Only the thirsty
Can drink in the majesty
Of Your knowing.
For pride is the travesty,
That hides,
For fear of revelation.That moment shattered my fear
And rent the clouds of all my life.
Taking proffered Hand,
I rise to my feet
Then, as now, again,Light embraces me
As my rags fall to my feet.
In their place
Love has woven a mantle,
A robe of Being,
That more than clothes me.It is a signal grace,
That names me,
With it, You announce
To all Creation
Who I am in You.My “Yes” reverberates
Throughout the Universe.
I am new,
Like a star at its birth,
Bursting forth
With Your Holiness;
Baptized in Your Redemption.How can I thank You
For Your forgiveness,
O, You, Who took my part?
Go now,
In search of my accusers.Copyright 2011 Joann Nelander
Category Archives: My Journal
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,
My 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
Be Holy! 