Becoming Flame

I offer You the straw of my life,
O Lord of my redemption.
Send Your angels, day by day,
To glean my field,
To fuel the fire of Your Love.

Did You not say,
“Learn from Me,
For I am meek,
And humble of heart?”
You do not need my riches.
You seek my poverty, my emptiness.

Your Fire penetrates my stubble.
I become like You,
All aglow As light and heat
Testify to Your Presence in the flame
That shoots to the heavens.

I am surrender and trust
In welcome transformation.
I am lost and yet eternal.
In You, straw by straw,
As kindling,
I am become the Flame.

What Have I?

What have I, My Lord,
But my beating heart,
My pulsing blood,
My seemingly useless toil,
The tears and sweat,
That mark my life?

Yet, I persevere,
I fight,
I cry,
I shout through the Night.
Though in the tumult,
And the rancor of holocaust,
My screams scarcely rise above a whisper.

I make of my heart a sanctuary,
A resting place for my God.
I long to comfort You,
For my wounds pierce Your Heart,
And tear Your Most Innocent Flesh.

It is You Who are rejected
In the womb of the world,
Women crying,
“Get out you untimely thing.”
Men forsaking love once declared.

Come here to me.
I will cry with You.
I will tend Your wounds,
Hold Your Hallowed Hand.

Each morn anew
I will embrace my lot.
My thoughts will meet ridicule,
But the stripes,
Fall anew on You.

Soldiers of the heart
Swell Your growing ranks,
As mere men take arms
Against Legion.
Each a knight born of a Revelation,
Your Love,
Your Faithfulness,
Your Victory.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

As An Eagle

Lord, Most High,
Most Good,
Most Holy,
As an eagle, soar our nation’s skies,
Look down and take pity on a people losing their way.

See us as we struggle.
See our deceivers.
See our cherished deceptions.
See our broken law.

The weight of haughty deception,
Oppresses a people,
Fearing the gift of Life.

It is hard to juggle our many gods.
To our folly,
Mammon has supplanted our love for You.

Resisting Your Love.
We choose Death
As an answer to Life.

We think the blessing, a curse,
And the curse, a blessing, nay, a right,
Negation the same as something, someone.

Give Your People Your eagle’s wings,
To scale the heights
With You.

Carry us on Your strong pinions
To safety in the clefts of the Rock.
Hide us in Your Sacred Wounds.

With an Eagle’s talons,
Swoop upon the Enemy
Who carries off our young.

Lord, Most High,
Most Good,
Most Holy,
Carry us on eagle ‘s wings to the safety of Your bosom,
Your Truth.

What of Me?

I am old and getting older.
My frame is frail and fire flickering.
My body speaks of leaving,
But what of me?

The body is all I have known.
My soul and spirit have been quite at home
What we have known of living
Has come by the body’s telling.

When I go hence,
And dust reclaims this house,
I will look to You,
For it was You who lit my flame.

The body didn’t give me life,
Nor shall its demise
Claim my life.
You are the font of my being.

Those who seek to love the world,
And those who choose the self apart from God,
Finally find they worship a needy god,
Who has not the power to meet their needs.

Before my parting,
My course will be marked,
Drawn by my choices and loves.
In death, may I further pursue my Love.

You are familiar to me in a homey way.
We have lived together all these years,
And I will recognize Your Voice
When You call me home.

No fear, no sudden fury,
Shall stop my pilgrim stride,
Or bend my will,
Long bent on You.

What of me?
Without You,
I would not know myself.
Call to me and I will come

©2016 Joann Nelander

Hope’s Longing

I find you in tears.
I find you in longing.
I find you covered in the news of the day,
Lying in the cold,
Under the blanket of the night,
Under heaven’s gaze.

Who wipes your tears?
Who comforts and consoles?
Who sees you in your many disguises,
Crying in the child,
Laughing with young,
Smiling down from Heaven?

Give me eyes to see through the tears.
Give me a heart to feel hope beyond sorrow.
Give me the shelter of your company.
Here in the Now,
I find You sweet within me
Promising Forever.

©2015 Joann Nelander

Who?

“Who do you say I am?”
Jesus asked.
Who do you say I am?

The jars lined the walls.
Each one marked:
A weight and words,
“Products of conception.”

Parts, just parts!
Parts, just parts?
Who do you say I am?

©2012 Joann Nelander