Category Archives: Poetry

Constant Refrain

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I lift my hands
Stretching my arms heavenward,
In search of my God
I spread my apron
Awaiting Your bounty,
Mysteriously in steady supply.

You are hidden in a cloud
Veiled from my eyes
And yet I hear Your constant strains
Plucking my heart strings,
Playing to my delight,
Reviving my hope,
And refilling my cup
That it might be forever full.

I can almost taste You
As I recall our times of intimacy and joy
I see myself clinging to Your pillar
Singing with the crowds gathered about Your throne.

In Heaven’s anti-chamber,
Knowing and yet not seeing,
Spirit supplying for sight,
Unseen and still perceived,
Your assurances are as rain
Upon my planted fields.
How am I at once empty and full,
Sated by Your Presence,
Yet full of desire.

You are mystery to me,
A sweet mystery,
And yes, a constant refrain.

©2013 Joann Nelander

Prime Directive – Life

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Before Time,
You chose me to be.
You chose my time.
You chose my place.
You chose my people.
You chose my fore-bearers.
You chose my parents.
You chose my soul
And the gifts,
That make me, uniquely, me.

You made me free,
Yet, tied in space
To time and place,
To a People,
To mother and father,
To one womb,
You bid me grow.

You said seek Me.
You gave me eyes to see.
You gave me ears to hear.
You gave me hands to hold.
You gave me mind,
And will,
And intellect.

You said ask Me.
You said lean on me.
You said choose life.
For freedom, love and life,
Free to choose,
I choose You.

Copyright 2013 Joann Nelander

Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival

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Hello, and welcome. We are a group of Catholic bloggers who gather weekly to share our best posts with each other. Join us to read and contribute if you like. Make sure that post links back to Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival. Don’t forget to leave a link to your post on our host, at RAnn’s site, This, That and the Other Thing.

Here are my contributions from the past week:

Handmaiden to the King

Dialogue between Christ and a Muslim

Infant King Benign

Slide Show – Landscape Dreams Photo Contest

On Trial for Being a Catholic

Infant King Benign

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O Infant King benign
I offer You the face
Of Mother Mary
As she gazed upon You
That very first time
Beholding long
Your holy countenance.

Her eyes, drinking in her Babe,
Her King, her Priest,
Her Son Divine,
Wept tears of joy,
And wonder,
In silent adoration,
Pondering comprehension.
She smiled in inward exultation.

You will never forget
Her look of love
As she gazed upon
Him, Who no earthly eye
Had seen,
A treasure for the world,
In her care,
To be wrapped
In lowly swaddling clothes
You, O Christ Child,
In Your humanity divine.

Dawn Comes

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O see,
Dawn comes
The first rays of Light
Upon the mountain.
How I have waited.
How I have longed.
Having embraced Faith
I possessed Truth,
But it was like the dawn,
Outside myself.
Written, as on tablets,
But, not yet,
Written on my heart.
It’s glory was God”s,
And not my own,
Not of my forging,
Not for me to fashion,
As a graven image,
Or molten calf,,
Arising from the fires
Of my concupiscence,
A counterfeit for Love,
Revealing only the blindness
Fallen on hearts,
Minds, and wills
Apart from Light
Of Dayspring
On Holy Night.

Now come
The long awaited symbolon
To make whole
To heal my soul.

O Holy Night
Putting an end
To lonely darkness
O Holy sight,
I wait
To see aright.

By Joann Nelander

Rejoice! Gaudete

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Rejoice!

Give me, God,
This glad rejoicing.
I am like a beggar at the gate.
My rags declare my need.
My knock trumpets my desire.

Your courts are full
Of plentiful redemption.
Wine and the merriment
Of the forgiven,
Invite my humble footsteps.

Although I bring myself
To Your threshold,
I cannot enter in,
For Sin is an effrontery,
An open assault on Your Majesty.

All awaits Your mercy.
Heaven is silent before You.
Tears are now my only arraignment
The voice of Your messenger
The only hope in my wilderness.

The King, Himself,
Rises from His throne.
Crowns are cast down at His feet.
As the sun shines from His Being,
Mercy rays meet my eyes,
And melt my heart.

He draws near.
His hand is at the Gate
To let in the beggar and the multitude,
For I am not alone.
The nations,
In long suffering and sorrow,
Kneel with me.

He approaches.
He is near.
Wedding garments in place of our polluted rags,
Rings and sandals for prodigal feet.

He comes,
He comes mid glad rejoicing.
We need wait but a moment.
The Virgin is with Child,
And He has left His throne
To succor the poor of all the earth.

By Joann Nelander