Tag Archives: poem

Covenant by Margaret Halaska …

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Covenant

God
knocks at my door
seeking a home for his son.

Rent is cheap, I say.

I don’t want to rent. I want to buy, says God.

I’m not sure I want to sell,
but you might come in and look around.

I think I will, says God.

I might let you have a room or two.

I like it, says God. I’ll take the two. You might decide to give me more some day.
I can wait, says God.

I’d like to give you more,
but it’s a bit difficult. I need some space for me.

I know, says God, but I’ll wait. I like what I see.

Hm, maybe I can let you have another room.
I really don’t need that much.

Thanks, says God, I’ll take it. I like what I see.

I’d like to give you the whole house
but I’m not sure …

Think on it, says God. I wouldn’t put you out.
Your house would be mine and my son would live in it.
You’d have more space than you’d ever had before.

I don’t understand at all.

I know, says God, but I can’t tell you about that.
You’ll have to discover it for yourself.
That can only happen if you let me have the whole house.

A bit risky, I say.

Yes, says God, but try me.

I’m not sure –
I’ll let you know.

I can wait, says God, I like what I see. 

 

by Margaret Halaska …O.S.F.

I Was Irish Once

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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
all rights reserved

Yad Vashem – Remember

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Yad vashem
Yad vashem

Stolen name replaced by number,
Savaged soul and broken heart.
Hell, a people to encumber.

Blind eyes outside in darkness.
Dead souls dismissed the human face.
Stolen name replaced by number

Rising from the ashes,
Pledging nevermore.
Hell, a people to encumber

Yad VaShem, the vault of memory,
Yad VaShem, the ground of tears
Stolen name replaced by number

Shoah: families, children.
Here named, remembered, mourned
Hell, a people to encumber

Faces pictured in the silence.
Tears cried forevermore.
Stolen name replaced by number
Hell, a people to encumber

Copyright Joann Nelander

(experimental Villanelle)

Speak the Perfect One in Me

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You spoke
And matter came to be.
Beauty and wisdom
Reigned over form,
And substance served
Your Thought.

You ruled the spheres and firmament
To create both void and fullness.
Your creation dawned in darkness,
And You let there be light.

First and last and all in between
Found a  place in Time.
You spoke forth Man
And, in my time, me.

You said,
"Be perfect
As I am perfect,"
And set free the human heart,
That it might know,
And love,
And serve Thee.
Yet will resisted service
And loved naught but itself.
"Tortuous and beyond remedy",
We hid from Thee.

In Time, You spoke, the Cure.
Announcing to the Virgin,
And by a Star
And angels herald,
Saving throughout creation,
Twisted hearts.
Jordan’s waters, purifying
By the Holy to make men holy,
Love made manifest
By descending Dove
Again You spoke,
"This is my Son."

Now, bowing will,
Longing in Your Christ,
Receive me as  son to Thee,
Anoint with Healing Balm,
Redeeming accursed Fall,
That perfect I, too,
May, please Thee, be.

When You speak
Life comes to be.
Speak now, the Perfect,
That I may perfect be
And, at long last, love Thee.

©2013 Joann Nelander

Sweet Presence

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You are here.
My soul drinks
Of Your Presence.
Here is sweetness pervading,
Time with no measure,
Eternity kissing the moment,
Stillness, though fleeting.

Your touch stirs the life of me.
I want to dance,
Charged with new vigor.
I should simply gaze on You
But the power of life
Is hard to resist,
And unless You take me captive,
I’m tempted to fly.

I am the beggar,
Who finding his pockets full,
Hurries off to spend his treasure.
Teach me Lord to bask
In the sunshine of Your smile.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

I’m Doing the Best I Can Do

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I say it so often,
"I am doing the best I can do."
My heart breaks,
For I desire to do all for You,
Yet, I am full of myself,
And You seem silent.

I am still of the earth
And aspire to heaven.
I am so common,
Yet You call me "Beloved",
And "Child of God".

My end draws near,
As it does for all men.
Many count their days endless,
And take no account.
What of my end?
Do I please You,
Who number my days,
And promise endless life?

Abandonment draws me
To Your Heart.
Do everything for me,
And in peace
I shall rest in You,
Endless Love of countless days,
Receive me.