Hide me, hold me, help me,
Living Rock of my being.
You, Truest Truth,
No mere symbol,
But Holy Being,
Are Ground of my being.
Creating with a word, the world,
You speak my name,
And, moment by moment,
Sustain my being.
Christ, my Rock,
May I forever be in Thee.
© 2015 Joann Nelander
Seeming
Lord, you pass by.
A sea of hands reach for You.
Straining to its end,
Determined, one hand, truly, seems all Heart.
You pass, seeming out of reach.
From Heaven the Father sees,
And satisfies the soul’s desire.
“Who touched me?”, says the Son.
© 2017 Joann Nelander
I sing my song of love to Thee,
My God, in Persons, Holy Three,
My Three, as You desire to be,
Have come to earth to succor me.
I, who pine, wanting Thee to please,
Lift heart and hands upon my knees,
Hoping, True God, for Thee to live,
For Your Heart beats but to forgive.
©2016 Joann Nelander
I was Irish once…
I was Irish for brief moments,
As they danced on makeshift stage.
Three sisters donned in green and white,
With ribbons in curled hair.
I was Irish for brief moments,
As locks bounced to rhythms tapped,
By jigging, flying feet,
Flitting blithely through the air.
I was Irish for brief moments,
Of merriment sublime,
Happy, joyful leaping,
Knees high, and lifted, kicking.
I was Irish for brief moments
Minstrels played their magic tunes,
And young girls moved in rocking fashion
Erin’s reveries impassioned.
I was Irish for brief moments.
Sweetly skirted colleens,
Poised on pointed toes.
Sent hearts a-skipping, happy legs a-lifting,
I was Irish for brief moments,
As fairies with green ribbons
In coiffed and flaming hair,
Spun a golden space in memory’s place.
I was Irish for brief moments,
And see again in dreaming,
Gladsome spinning, hopping, prancing,
Three sisters on stage dancing.
Yes, I was Irish once.
©2013 Joann Nelander
Lift the veil in this morass of Sin,
That faith may blossom and hope enter in.
Let the Sun of Justice shine
Upon a people in decline,
That looking up from the tyranny of power and things
Your face may captivate and solace bring.
Pour down torrents of Thy Grace
To cleanse this dry and brutal place ,
Uproot to plant anew
A Day of peace like settled dew,
That minds be bright and intellects sublime
And our only glory may be Thine.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 