Tag Archives: healing

Into the Stillness – Poetry & Prayer

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Veterans Day–Passion of a Warrior

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When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Through veins
Piercing to the marrow of bone.

The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.

All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.

Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accuser.

Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.

How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander

This post in linking to  week 41 poetry picnic

 

Take My Hand

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Take My hand,
The very same hand
That in infancy
Grasped My Mother’s finger,
Hugged her about the neck.

Look into My Eyes,
The very eyes
That held My Mother’s gaze.

Let me take you
To your child,
Never forgotten,
Buried in secret mourning,
No day without pain.

Your little one has a heart of love,
A soul of patience
A spirit of forbearance,
And one solitary prayer.

Playing on the lap of Our Father,
Whispering the heart’s desire
Into Abba’s listening ear,
Full of Love’s expectation,
Your babe smiles eternally
And waits for thee.

Take My hand,
The very same hand
That in infancy
Grasped My Mother’s finger,
Hugged her about the neck.
Now is a time to embrace
The gift I give you in Love.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Love’s Mansion

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A child lost,
A child stolen,
A child abandoned,
But not by Love.

Love held his hand,
As Death pursued.
Love clutched his life
To hold him in her heart.

When all doors shut,
When clouds descended,
When law conspired,
When men called evil good.

Love shared his pain.
Love healed.
Love fostered love.
Prepared a home.

Love opened the earth
To receive the blood
Of innocence,
Once more.

Love found a way,
To thwart the grave,
To forgive, to forget,
To encompass and enfold.

Love builds a mansion
With waiting rooms,
For mother, father
And lineage long.

From Adam past
Unto blessed Eternity,
Love reclaims,
Love invites to Mercy feast.

Love simply loves,
Sinner, martyr, saint,
The lost, the stolen, the abandoned,
Now espoused.

© 2012 Joann Nelander

Beyond Tears

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I just want to rest here,
In a place beyond tears.
When You see me,
In my life’s blood,
You will not pass me by.

Shepherd,
That you are,
Lift me to Your shoulder.
Carry me
The rest of the way.

I consent to Your ministries,
Trust in Your mercies.
As Your strong arms
Enfold me.

I am comfort,
Through and through,
For I will to be
One with You,
And You have given me
My heart’s desire.

Bath Waters

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Heavenly Mother,
It is told,
You allowed a leper babe,
To be washed in your Baby’s bath,
And, immediately, the infant was healed,
His skin, supple and pink,
By an act of God,
A miraculous gift.

Plunge those forgotten in life,
Into that water of refreshment,
In which, to remove the dust of the world,
You bathed your Babe.

It is God, Who hears,
The cry of the poor.
God, Who, is not far off.
He sent His Christ,
To enter that sea,
The Jordan of Man’s Sin.

One day, it’s waters
Would wash the multitudes,
And it’s streams
Flow over the Ages.

God, indeed, hears
The cry of the poor,
As He heard the wail
Of the leper babe.

“This is my beloved Son.”,
He announces in loving unity,
As an open invitation for us to enter in,
And lay our claim in holy hope.

Mother, do for the disabled,
What they cannot
Do for themselves.
Meet us in our leprosy,
And, bathing us, say
With the Father,
“This is my son,
In whom I am well pleased.”

© 2012 Joann Nelander
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