Old year passes,
Becoming yet another ghost,
Withered as leaves,
Crumbled, and carried aloft
By winter winds,
Too soon scattered
By the breezes of Time.
Is it truly spent,
Dead and long forgotten,
Living but in memory?
May not reflection
Call it from the grave,
Uncover the gain
Hold it fast
To live again?
How has its many waters
Blessed thee and me,
As sacred signs?
Will it, as muse, retain a power
For its having been,
And then no more?
What saints and angels
Sent my way,
Colored its day?
In sorrow,
Who came to hold my hand?
In joy,
Who shared my hearth?
Were there hugs, and smiles,
And laughter to tilt the scale of grief?
Can kisses and embraces be resurrected,
That fires of love be stoked
To warm and blaze anew?
Has my thanksgivings
Been recorded in the pyre,
Written in the embers now glowing
As tiger eyes flashing from the ash.
Years come, doomed , too soon to go,
But let them not hurry
To a crypt without a wake.
Drink the happy wine of memory,
Sip, as the seasons turn.
Contemplate and savor
The seasons of your soul.
©2011 Joann Nelander
Old year passes,
Becoming yet another ghost,
Withered as leaves,
Crumbled, and carried aloft
By winter winds,
Too soon scattered
By the breezes of Time.Is it truly spent,
Dead and long forgotten,
Living but in memory?
May not reflection
Call it from the grave,
Uncover the gain
Hold it fast
To live again?How has its many waters
Blessed thee and me,
As sacred signs?
Will it, as muse, retain a power
For its having been,
And then no more?What saints and angels
Sent my way,
Colored its day?
In sorrow,
Who came to hold my hand?
In joy,
Who shared my hearth?Were there hugs, and smiles,
And laughter to tilt the scale of grief?
Can kisses and embraces be resurrected,
That fires of love be stoked
To warm and blaze anew?Has my thanksgivings
Been recorded in the pyre,
Written in the embers now glowing
As tiger eyes flashing from the ash.Years come, doomed , too soon to go,
But let them not hurry
To a crypt without a wake.
Drink the happy wine of memory,
Sip, as the seasons turn.
Contemplate and savor
The seasons of your soul.©2011 Joann Nelander
Names from concentration and death camps/Paul74 via Flickr
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 numberRising from the ashes,
Pledging nevermore.
Hell, a people to encumberYad VaShem, the vault of memory,
Yad VaShem, the ground of tears
Stolen name replaced by numberShoah: families, children.
Here named, remembered, mourned
Hell, a people to encumberFaces pictured in the silence.
Tears cried forevermore.
Stolen name replaced by number
Hell, a people to encumberCopyright Joann Nelander
(experimental Villanelle)
May my heart be Your paradise on earth, empty of self, save for You, Who are the wellspring of my very being, the great I Am Who Am. Cloth me in Your Heart and dream Holy dreams that create Your life in me. I am empty awaiting the waters of life to inundate my poor, longing soul. Speak peace Beloved. I gaze into Your Soul in its anguished Gethsemane. All ages await your healing Death on the Cross the Father laid upon your bosom in a bath of blood and tears. Fill Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow as with Mary”s “Fiat” her womb became Your world.
Life, precious ointment of Love, consume the death You find in me.
Update-Yad Vashem – What’s in a Name
I was reminded of a piece I wrote, God Remembers Their Names on the occasion of Pope Benedict XVI speaking at Yad Vashem Holocaust Museum and then I came upon this : A Hand and a Name by Renee Ghert-Zand.
“How ironic it is that celebrities, who live increasingly public lives, would metaphorically die to have their names and handprints immortalized in concrete, while the victims of the Holocaust would have done anything to have been able to live out their natural lives in obscurity, their names never appearing on one of countless Nazi extermination lists recovered and now housed forever at Yad VaShem.”
Yad VaShem Hall of Names by David Shankbone
Be Holy! 