Remembering the Seasons of My Soul

Old year passes,
Becoming yet another ghost,
Withered as leaves,
Crumbled, and carried aloft
By winter winds,
Too soon scattered
By the breezes of Time.

Is it truly spent,
Dead and long forgotten,
Living but in memory?
May not reflection
Call it from the grave,
Uncover the gain
Hold it fast
To live again?

How has its many waters
Blessed thee and me,
As sacred signs?
Will it, as muse, retain a power
For its having been,
And then no more?

What saints and angels
Sent my way,
Colored its day?
In sorrow,
Who came to hold my hand?
In joy,
Who shared my hearth?

Were there hugs, and smiles,
And laughter to tilt the scale of grief?
Can kisses and embraces be resurrected,
That fires of love be stoked
To warm and blaze anew?

Has my thanksgivings
Been recorded in the pyre,
Written in the embers now glowing
As tiger eyes flashing from the ash.

Years come, doomed , too soon to go,
But let them not hurry
To a crypt without a wake.
Drink the happy wine of memory,
Sip, as the seasons turn.
Contemplate and savor
The seasons of your soul.

©2011  Joann Nelander

See With the Eyes of the Soul

My Child,
Praise be to Jesus Christ.
He is our Anchor.
He is the High Tower
He is the Lamp that shines in the dark.
He is the Light that dispels all darkness.
He it is that brings us to the safe harbor.

Rough seas, storms,
Thunder in the night,
And the tumult of the deep,
All serve, our Great King.
Fear nothing that comes to you.
You have a champion in high heaven
And ministering angels about you.

See with the eyes of your soul.
Remember: “Greater is He
That is in you,
Than he who is in the world.”

Rejoice that you are His,
And that you are weak and small.
The great can not see
Their need for a savior.
You know your need,
And you know your Savior.

By Joann Nelander

Mary, the Violin

Mary, Virgin, Mother of God,
The perfectly fashioned,
And tuned instrument,
A violin,
In the hands of God,
As He plays His music
For the Son.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Mary, the Violin

Mary, Virgin, Mother of God,
The perfectly fashioned,
And tuned instrument,
A violin,
In the hands of God,
As He plays His music
For the Son.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Prayer and the Indwelling Christ

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 to feel 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.
©2011 Joann Nelander

Mary, the Violin

Mary, Virgin, Mother of God,
The perfectly fashioned,
And tuned instrument,
A violin,
In the hands of God,
As He plays His music
For the Son.

©2012 Joann Nelander