You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.
You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
How sad is Man?
He values the rare,
Exults the extraordinary,
Crowns the celebrity.God, on the Other hand, proliferates.
He calls good all He creates,
Dignifies life by His Love,
And Humankind by His Incarnation.For want of goodness,
Man may usurp the place of God,
Seat himself
Upon that lofty throne.For the want of love
Man may throw life away,
Too small, too young, too needy
Too dependent to matter.How sad is Man upon his throne?
He beats his chest,
And declares his liberty;
Forgets his neighbor, chooses self.How sad is Man,
Unencumbered of diety,
His own god,
And lord of all he has stolen.Yet, God dignifies his defiant creature.
God respects the time of Man,
And gives His Mercy
Sway over Holy Wrath.Out-side of Time.
There is only the Eternal.
In Time, mind and Man are matter-dependent,
Sustained in rhythms tuned by the Creator.When Time is rolled up
With the stars, like a scroll,
And fire devours all matter,
Where will the spark of Man exist?While living, Man chooses,
Until Death declares
All he has chosen final,
The Star of Hope extinguished.O Man, gladden the lot of Men.
Your eternity begins in the Heart of God.
You are rare.
You are extraordinary.Celebrate the Lord, Your God!
©2011 Joann Nelander
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
Though 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,
Yet 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 Accurser.
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
O Mary, living for Christ,
From the beginning, Immaculata,
As the Father willed,
Bring forth Christ for all mankind.
Make me the fruit of your holy labor.
Mary, the means and not the end,
Carry me within your bosom blest.
O Mary, living in me,
May I receive your thoughts and inspirations.
Let your heart beat with my own.
May your soul inflame my own.
May the soul of Christ,
One with yours
By His Holy Spirit espoused,
Be seed, substance and fruition in me.
Christ, one with your soul,
Extend His victory in me
As your protectorate,
In order that the Conqueror now conquer me.
May the angels wonder at my change,
As your light and inspirations
Become my constant delight.
O, you who are all grace by the Word of God,
Supply the grace for good to me,
As your hands received their holy orders
From Him who held all sway over your being.
Be in me, the gracious gift of God,
As is all grace.
All is grace and gratitude
To His glory and your merit.
I am abandoned.
You are adorned.
I am conformed.
Christ is adored.Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 