What of tears?
What of feelings of deep emotion?
What of the thoughts that seem to interfere
When one encounters the One to Whom we pray?
Don’t let them get in the way.
What is a poor body to do,
But quake before the awesome Presence?
What better use of tears
But to purify the vessel.
Allow the thoughts to bathe therein,
Outside the city
And realms of sin,
In the arms
Of One Who loves you
Through and through.
Advent is upon my soul.
Divine gift of season,
I listen for the cry of a First Born Son,
Begotten before Time begun,
And enfleshed in the Virgin’s womb.
I come to her,
Who is the Ark,
Your Mercy Seat.
Kneeling beside her,
In these pregnant moments,
I lay my head upon her lap.
Her wonderment, and awe,
In steadfast contemplation,
Inspire angels’ songs.
I hear their reverent voices
In my night.
Their chorus bids me come.
Come to the stable of simplicity.
Leave the noisy city for a deserted place,
The Wilderness, whose hidden way
Leads to the waiting manger,
Now, in expectant readiness,
For the Food, that will feed
The hungry world.
My Advent prayer,
Come, O Holy Infant!
Come to my straw
©2010 Joann Nelander
All men are candles,
Burning on some altar.
Some disappear into nothingness,
Before worldly idols,
Unable to sustain their spark
Beyond the veil,
Into eternity.
Others light the heavens
As they are consumed
On the altar of Love,
Merging imperceptibly,
Creature with Creator.
When my wax is spent,
I pray I am not distracted
By my sin.
When I melt
Into the arms of God,
May it be that Love,
That lit my flame,
Outshines my imperfections
In holy consummation.
Burn candle, all alight
Warming with mercy rays the night,
To Penetrate hearts of friend and foe,
To soothe and mend wounds,
Dispelling darkness
With the Uncreated Light
That set creation into being.
Now and forever,
I cast myself
Into the flame,
The furnace of His Sacred Heart.
Passing through pierced side,
One with the Virgin,
Holy angels and expurgated saints of ole,
Melted in union,
I am formed anew in Christ,
With the Father and Spirit,
Candle, altar and Salvation might.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
An almost burnt-down lit candle on a candle holder. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
All men are candles,
Burning on some altar.
Some disappear into nothingness,
Before worldly idols,
Unable to sustain their spark
Beyond the veil,
Into eternity.
Others light the heavens
As they are consumed
On the altar of Love,
Merging imperceptibly,
Creature with Creator.
When my wax is spent,
I pray I am not distracted
By my sin.
When I melt
Into the arms of God,
May it be that Love,
That lit my flame,
Outshines my imperfections
In holy consummation.
Burn candle, all alight
Warming with mercy rays the night,
To Penetrate hearts of friend and foe,
To soothe and mend wounds,
Dispelling darkness
With the Uncreated Light
That set creation into being.
Now and forever,
I cast myself
Into the flame,
The furnace of His Sacred Heart.
Passing through pierced side,
One with the Virgin,
Holy angels and expurgated saints of ole,
Melted in union,
I am formed anew in Christ,
With the Father and Spirit,
Candle, altar and Salvation might.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
All men are candles,
Burning on some altar.
Some disappear into nothingness,
Before worldly idols,
Unable to sustain their spark
Beyond the veil,
Into eternity.
Others light the heavens
As they are consumed
On the altar of Love,
Merging imperceptibly,
Creature with Creator.
When my wax is spent,
I pray I am not distracted
By my sin.
When I melt
Into the arms of God,
May it be that Love,
That lit my flame,
Outshines my imperfections
In holy consummation.
Burn candle, all alight
Warming with mercy rays the night,
To Penetrate hearts of friend and foe,
To soothe and mend wounds,
Dispelling darkness
With the Uncreated Light
That set creation into being.
Now and forever,
I cast myself
Into the flame,
The furnace of His Sacred Heart.
Passing through pierced side,
One with the Virgin,
Holy angels and expurgated saints of ole,
Melted in union,
I am formed anew in Christ,
With the Father and Spirit,
Candle, altar and Salvation might.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Be Holy! 