A Thousand Little Moments

I fail and I fall.

“Yes, Father, it’s me, again.”

My prayers and tears reach Your heart with plaintiff sighs.

I reach for Love, as a baby grasps the finger,

Securing You to my heart,

Binding You by trifles.

A thousand little moments, like a knitter’s weave,

Trivial triumphs conquering like souls,

For made in Your image, I desire only You.

Of wooing, my begging be a part.

I turn, my God, to You, as a prayer with every care.

Prayer and tears, now, all one,

I nestle to Your breast and am all ear.

I listen as beat upon beat,

Love’s rhythm reassures me of the next,

And, of Your eternal constancy.

I listen, as for a whisper, and fear not

Whisper every care, and fretful prayer.

I reach for You with every breath,

And sigh when You draw nigh.

You answer with a mother’s warmth,

Bending low, picking me up, and pressing me

To Your consoling bosom.

“What is it my child. Am I not here? Haven’t I given you all?”

You kiss away my tears

And delight in the exchange.

I have given nothing but complaint,

Yet, You are full of smiles.

A thousand little moments knit our day.

I cry and You comfort.

I beckon and You bend in kind regard.

You draw me into that chamber,

In which I was formed,

That hallowed space,

In which my time began.

Heaven and rest contained

In one all holy Name.

Name me, my God,

And I will come into being,

Called forth from my darkness

Into Your marvelous Day.

All our moments measured by Your mercy,

I cry out for a heart made unto Your own,

That I may grow to give Your Love.

Love begetting love, for love alone.

An Act of Faith

I have seen enough to know,
I just don’t know,
But there is One Who does,
Giver of Life,
Giver of generations,
Giver of prayer.

One generation to pray
For the next generation.
Mother, and father,
Grandmother, grandfather,
A circle of care
To pray it forward.

Faith waits upon the Lord,
A gift beyond measure,
A mystery waiting to happen,
Not in our time,
But in our Father’s.

No seed too bad
To wait upon,
Hope for,
Entrust to God,
In His Mercy,
And providential time.

Our own close their ears
To the prophet at home
Or next door,
But no one knows
What God has in store.

“Place them here
With Me in the tabernacle,”
Whispers God to the heart.
“I’ll have the last word,
My Love to impart.”

One generation to pray
For the next generation.
“All shall be well,
And all shall be well,
And all manner of thing
Shall be well.”     (Bl.Julianna of Norwich)

©2012 Joann Nelander

Riding the Wind

He rides the Wind in power and right,
Born of Eternal Light.
All goodness follow in His train,
Like comet tails, falling stars,
That fire my night.

Here light upon my soul and nest,
As spirit bird, find place of rest,
Spreading feathered wing
As shelter, and friend,
To Godly bless.

Stirring, fan the embers of my love,
To blaze anew in fire from above
Transforming dust and dross,
To forge one who walks
Amongst the flame, O Holy Dove.

©2013 Joann Nelander

People of Praise

Your people praise you, O Lord.
As points of light,
Scattered about
The surface of the Earth.
Together with angelic choirs,
That dot the firmament,
Your children sing.

With fish, and bird,
With rivers and seas,
With mountains,
And heavenly heights,
Creation sings in chorus,
Affirmation,
Acclamation,
And affection,
In sanctifying hosannas,
That fall as bountiful rain,
To water man and beast
With fruitful exaltation,
Multipling our delight,
As we magnify our God.

We are your mothers,
Fathers, sisters,
Brothers, friends
Of Your fold,
Returning praise,
And worship due
The Most High Lord
Of all creation.
In Your Light we
Become Your Light.

© 2012 Joann Nelander

Listening and Silent

It seems…
I am always talking to You,
That I am always with You,
And have no doubt
You are with me,
Listening and silent.

I am an endless monologue.
You, hovering Spirit,
Wordlessly eloquent
Abide.
You are Presence and Truth,
Listening and silent,
Thunderously silent,
Save for the stirring of my heart,
And the sometime rush of thought,
Coming, as it were,
From the bowels of my being
With frightening conviction,
And challenging my reticence
To speak aloud
The thoughts of solitude.

Reluctant always
To go about,
And leave the cloister of my heart,
Where in Your chambers I find,
And hold dear,
Private audience with the King,

The world without is a noisy charade,
And woos the pride of me take center stage.
Where suddenly I realize
I have been talking much, too much,
To my regret.

I, naggingly, suspect
I have diminished
What was my treasure
And ceased to learn.
Cacophany of me,
I cease to learn,
And simply rearrange,
That with which I am familiar.

Where do prophet, poet and a would be recluse
Find voice if not in You,
Rejecting even audience
To find You in my silence,
Your silence?

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Candles on Altars

Candles on Altars

An almost burnt-down lit candle on a candle ho...

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