Although, I have been resting
In Your Most Sacred Heart,
Safe in Your holy embrace
Throughout this night,
You have been waiting for this moment,
When my eyes open,
Hoping I would look at You,
And return Your loving glance.
© 2014 Joann Nelander
O Captain of my heart
On Love’s Tree
You penetrate the Lie.
You, victorious in Death,
Descend, piercing the Earth
To ransom Adam’s seed.
Scale my stony ramparts;
Pull down vanity’s tower;
Besiege the Gates of Hell.
Trumpet Your holy rage.
As with thundering steed and burnished sword,
Capture and hold fast my soul.
Call “Beloved” Your desolate one;
Call “Espoused” she who mourns
Her innocence’s demise.
Circle me about with Promise.
Covenant me in Blood Sacrifice.
Ascend on high with wedded bride..
O, Love Divine, make me Thine!
©2010 Joann Nelander
Hand in hand on pilgrimage,
Joy and tears are caught up
And carried aloft,
On the wings of angels,
And placed in the brazier
Before the throne of God,
With our hearts prostrate,
And spirits pleading,
For that final awakening
Of which the Saints speak,
And the Church,
In union with Her Bridegroom,
Proclaims through the long Ages,
Leading all to Final Rest.
Come, Christ, Savior,
Come, Happiness of All Souls and Saints,
Come, my Jesus, O Journeys’ End.
copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Refuge of Sinners
I sit in the sunshine of Your New Day.
Forgiveness has washed over me.
At Your Word,
Mercy has rained upon Your Beloved.
Hear now, You say to me:
You are safe, My little one.
You have chosen to hide yourself
In the Wound of My Sacred Heart.
The world about is cold and unholy,
Yet you are surrounded by angels of Light.
Warm and welcoming is the Living Flesh
That is your constant refuge.
I enfold you,
As you have made My Body,
Your Food, your Heart,
Your own.
Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
I am such a mess.
The rain falls on my soil,
And for a while I am mud.
No hint of fertility.
No hint of growth.
No hint of flowers.
Mud is self-forgetful,
A confusion of gift,
A profusion of promise.
The day will seed to my substance,
Serendipity and surprise,
Plantings for the morrow.
I shall lie here,
Loving my mud,
Waiting for the Sun.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
Moved by Love, my Love,
How do I make return?
Struggles press, take hold of.
Moved by Love, my Love,
Power proffered from above
Too requisite to spurn.
Moved by Love, my Love,
How do I make return?
Copyright Joann Nelander
(experimental triolet)
Be Holy! 