Eyes

How often I beseech
“All the angels and saints”,
Yet, fail to realize
The multitude of the holy,
I call to my side.

They do come.
They come ready to aid,
To do battle,
To protect,
And do bless.

God give me eyes,
That I may see,
For, indeed,
I am, too often,
Blind.

There are wise infrared eyes,
Spying the sky.
We see our universe at its birth.
For eons,
We knew of no such birth.

Blindness of a kind
Can kill.
A child in the womb,
Heart beating for the cameras,
Still fails
To make a Presence known.
How blind the eyes
That refuse to see.

Father of all that is,
Give me eyes of the heart,
That I may
Make a start.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’

Eyes

How often I beseech
“All the angels and saints”,
Yet, fail to realize
The multitude of the holy,
I call to my side.

They do come.
They come ready to aid,
To do battle,
To protect,
And do bless.

God give me eyes,
That I may see,
For, indeed,
I am, too often,
Blind.

There are wise infrared eyes,
Spying the sky.
We see our universe at its birth.
For eons,
We knew of no such birth.

Blindness of a kind
Can kill.
A child in the womb,
Heart beating for the cameras,
Still fails
To make a Presence known.
How blind the eyes
That refuse to see.

Father of all that is,
Give me eyes of the heart,
That I may
Make a start.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’

Eyes

How often I beseech
“All the angels and saints”,
Yet, fail to realize
The multitude of the holy,
I call to my side.

They do come.
They come ready to aid,
To do battle,
To protect,
And do bless.

God give me eyes,
That I may see,
For, indeed,
I am, too often,
Blind.

There are wise infrared eyes,
Spying the sky.
We see our universe at its birth.
For eons,
We knew of no such birth.

Blindness of a kind
Can kill.
A child in the womb,
Heart beating for the cameras,
Still fails
To make a Presence known.
How blind the eyes
That refuse to see.

Father of all that is,
Give me eyes of the heart,
That I may
Make a start.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’

Misery

A Nation cries,
In want of Thee.
Time hurries,
All the while consuming,
That which our hands have built.

Our plenty devoured
In furnaces of desire.
“More, give us more,
The engines roar. ”

You wait,
That we might recognize
Your reign.
Your sun rises on each new day.
You are patient.
Wait, wait, wait….

Obedience is not our way.
We turn only blind eyes
And misprize chastisement’s scourge.
We know only
The gates of Hell demand,
Demand our sacrifice,
Human sacrifice.
We do not deny them.

No place too sacred to invade.
Give the gods their due,
For they pay our way.
After all, we are only clay,
Living to be merry
One more day.

You, O Holy One,
Speak of Love and Eternity.
Our bellies cry out “Now”
“Who needs Your Throne!”
Give us bread without God Alone.
Our way,
Just one more day.

©2012 Joann Nelander All rights reserved

Eyes

How often I beseech
“All the angels and saints”,
Yet, fail to realize
The multitude of the holy,
I call to my side.

They do come.
They come ready to aid,
To do battle,
To protect,
And do bless.

God give me eyes,
That I may see,
For, indeed,
I am, too often,
Blind.

There are wise infrared eyes,
Spying the sky.
We see our universe at its birth.
For eons,
We knew of no such birth.

Blindness of a kind
Can kill.
A child in the womb,
Heart beating for the cameras,
Still fails
To make a Presence known.
How blind the eyes
That refuse to see.

Father of all that is,
Give me eyes of the heart,
That I may
Make a start.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’

IF AND WHEN

My dearest Heart,
If I but had pure vision
Of Your Holiness,
My soul would take wing,
To break the hold
And travesty accursed,
Which chains me here,
Forever, casting off,
The gravity of Sin.

Hold, before my eyes,
The Christ upon the Cross,
That Longinus beheld,
That I, too, might soar to Your Side,
And enter there that Wound,
Which You love best,
That holy invitation,
That bids me "enter here".

No accident of fate,
That sword that pierced Your Heart
But providential lance of Holy Love,
That freed, fortuitous,
The wellspring of Salvation.

The sight of Love dying,
And undying,
Crosses the divide of Heaven and Hell,
To bathe with healing,
My eyes, as Raphael did Tobit.
And causes me to say with blind Bartimaeus,
In compassionate encounter,
"Lord, that I might see."

Love bathes me, as Mother,
At the first sign of my distress,
Before my disbelief of Mercy
Could raise objection
To Your eternal Kindness.

In the sunrise of the First Morn
Of New Day,
I see You, my sweetest Heart,
Resplendent, yet still pierced.

O, my Resurrected Lord,
Promise of my victory,
I adore with Seraphic praise,
And taking wing,
I rise with Thee.