Your gaze have made it very easy,
praying that is.
Yet, for such as me,
it’s still very hard,
not seeing You across the table.Your eyes follow me.
I know You hear me.
“It’s not You, it’s me”,
as faulting lovers say.Your gaze never leaves me,
I can feel it
in the depths of my being.
I am never alone.You wait,
as I turn to trifles,
or beat down troublesome giants.
You dwell upon my last words,
feeling my joy or pain
through every season of my soul.Though my words can stop mid-sentence
or conversation cease,
still You know the whole.
With the patience of eternity, my God waits.Eventually, I turn back to You.
Your eyes sear my soul,
O, that my heart could return that gaze.On the best of days,
unless You bind me to You, I flit.
A thousand trumpets vie for my ear
and I am torn.New love has a magic,
erasing the world, and becoming all.
Re-ignite that flame in me
To shut out causes, fears and strife.Your Presence felt is strength and consolation,
Your tug is joy
and Your conversation sweetness.
If pain be the messenger
that draws me back to You,
so be it.
Better the torment of an earthly purgatory
than the foretaste of hell.If it seems I sit at our table alone,
the note of sadness betrays the truth.
I miss you and the missing is from You.
You beckon anew.Sup with me.
Dwell with me.
Gaze on me.
I am not alone.
My Christ is with me.By Joann Nelander
Category Archives: Poetry, Prose & Prayer
Poetry, Prose & Prayer
A Willing Heart
The least of Your children, O Lord,,
Can bring forth fruit one hundred fold.
Such is the mystery of grace and love
Planted in a willing heart.
By Joann Nelander
Clinging
Clinging, clinging to You,
As a leaf clasping the vine
With mouth pressed
And soul hungry,
Receiving in its will
Sustenance and vigor.
Stress, season, time,
And the tempters three,
World, Devil and fleshy me,
Turn, test and try resolve.
Clinging, I cling,
Clasping fast,
For only the glue of love
Suffice as bond,
To quell and conquer,
The wanton, the unruly.
For the Conqueror abides in me,
I cling to the Almighty Three.
Copyright 2011 Joann Nelander
I Watched a Friend at Prayer
I watched a friend at prayer.
From the moment her eyes
Met Yours on the Cross,
She was enraptured.What is it that passes between like souls?
The gulf between You, God,
And Your creature is unfathomable,
Yet, Your love spans the distance and dissimilarity
With the intimacy of a mother
Suckling her infant,
All giving, all gift and all grace.I watched my friend at prayer.
The world about her changed.
A holy space surrounded her,
As angels hurried to and fro,
Now bowing, now prostrate, now adoring.All prayer unites,
As earth receives its Savior-God,
As Man exercises dominion,
Freed from Sin and chains.Angels in swift flight,
Aloft on mission-wings ,
Now ascending,
Now descending.Peace on earth
To men of good will,
As Time and Eternity kiss,
Love knowing no distance.I watched my friend at prayer,
As her prayer became my prayer,
You drawing all to Yourself.
Draw me now,
And all will in turn
Run after the odor of Your ointments.©2011 Joann Nelander
I Was Irish Once
I was Irish once:
I was Irish for brief moments,
As they danced on makeshift stage.
Three sisters donned in green and white,
With ribbons in curled hair.
I was Irish for brief moments,
As locks bounced to rhythms tapped,
By jigging, flying feet,
Flitting blithely through the air.
I was Irish for brief moments,
Of merriment sublime,
Happy, joyful leaping,
Knees high, and lifted, kicking.
I was Irish for brief moments
Minstrels played their magic tunes,
And young girls moved in rocking fashion
Erin’s reveries impassioned.
I was Irish for brief moments.
Sweetly skirted colleens,
Poised on pointed toes.
Sent hearts a-skipping, happy legs a-lifting,
I was Irish for brief moments,
As fairies with green ribbons
In coiffed and flaming hair,
Spun a golden space in memory’s place.
I was Irish for brief moments,
And see again in dreaming,
Gladsome spinning, hopping, prancing,
Three sisters on stage dancing.
Yes, I was Irish once.
©2013 Joann Nelander
all rights reserved
Saints Prayering Before the Throne of God
There is an oft repeated line in a litany of prayers recited by Richard Garnaut, that says, “Remember my intentions every day before the throne of God.” I love that supplication, for with it a picture comes to mind and I am heartened.
Saint after saint is asked to remember, and not stop there , but obliged, by holy love, to take my entreaties to God, who is seated in majesty, and almighty power upon His Kingly throne, and to refresh them through out all my days. Not a bad return for just one prayer for the kind intercession of a dear friend in heaven. I pray once in faith and each merciful patron, who’s been entrusted with my entreaty, the outpouring of my broken, weary, wounded heart, remembers me in the love of our Savior. Their faith, as it were, is now added to mine, even if my words were imperfect, hasty and half spoken. I may even forget that cry for help, but these friends of God, in their perfection, remain vigilant, with candle lit in the heavenly court, pleading my cause. At very least, that’s the image that comes to my mind. My moment of hope, enkindles a kind of perpetual hope, which shines in God’s Presence. Well, that’s my hope and I’m sticking with it.
Be Holy! 