Poetry

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Luke 23:34

His arms outstretched on the wooden beam;

The Father's will to see it through.

In the soldiers' eyes an evil gleam,

Driving the nails into his hands - one, then two.

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No sooner the third nail pierced his feet,

Then lifted up towards the sky.

The malice of man He did there meet,

But forgiveness was his cry.

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"They know not what they do," He said,

As taunts and curses increased.

Though most of the crowd wished him dead,

He showed mercy to the least.

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A model of love He gave that day

to all men on the earth.

Forgivness and hope - a better way,

Abundant life; full of mirth.

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Too little we hear His cry today

in this age of blame and scorn.

"Remove that speck!" is easier to say

Than confronting the evil I've born.

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Though I cannot read another's heart,

My own faults I know deep within.

So I'll echo His cry and seek a new start;

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

God love you.

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Chaos seems to reign

Life nothing but pain

Existence without meaning

Happiness always fleeting

No hope or point at all

Eat and drink today, then wait for death to call.

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Order created by gift

A universe He did uplift 

Made man in His image and likeness

So that all might return to His highness 

Reason and intellect instilled

But the greatest gift was free will.

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Pride, anger, lust and envy

All the evil deep within me

Demons call with tempting lies:

"He doesn't love you, why even try?"

"Don't let Him rule you with an iron rod

Give into your passions; be your own god."

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But from a land called Galilee

Came the Son born to hang on a tree

To repair the rupture caused by sin

Reconciling the Father to all men

Gave His body and blood to pay an infinite debt

The victory is won; the table set.

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Still the darkness remains deep within our hearts

Since the Garden of Eden, the devil plays his part

A sickness in the soul; gains met with loss

Symptoms always worsen when eyes are off the Cross

The cares of this world blot out the rays of light

Many turn their backs; lose the will to fight.

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So "come to me" He says, "and I will give you rest"

"Pick up your cross and follow me towards that rocky crest"

"I cannot promise you leisure, or a life absent pain"

"But the suffering I endured merits your eternal gain"

"Have no fear my child, I'm present here and now"

"Upon the altar; a tiny Host; My love cannot be bound."

 

 

God love you.

 

 

 

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Happy Lent!  Here is a short poem I composed, reflecting on the purpose for which God made us, and the means he gives us to get there--Himself!  I pray it speaks to you in some small way.

Why, O God?  Why am I here?

I need not exist; I know that for sure

Yet I never seem to have a heart that is pure

I fall short of your glory, succumb to my fear.

Before you created me, this world spun around

Men came and went--some lost, others found

And so it will be, long after I am gone

Memories will fade, dawn after dawn.

But for now I am a pilgrim on this journey called life

None of the stops on the way fully satisfy my heart

As if a small piece has been cut out with a knife

And the hole left behind slowly tears me apart.

Many long years, this hole have I tried to fill

For that purpose, the world offers no shortage of dirt

Yet the more shoveled in only increases the hurt

My heart was meant for more than vain glory and a cheap thrill

But lo, in the darkness, I saw a great light

And heard a small voice, as I trembled with fright

What was said is quite ancient, yet made present again and again:

"He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him."

O Jesus, my Dear Savior, fill my heart with a small piece of Yours 

At last I know what makes my heart full

The love from this Sacrament, Your divine life it outpours

Until I am home at the heavenly banquet, to which all men You pull.

God love you.

 

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Readings for Thursday of the First Week in Advent: Isaiah 26:1-6; Psalms 118; Matthew 7:21, 24-27

In today's Gospel reading, Jesus compares those who hear his words and do them versus those who do not, using the imagery of building a house upon rock or upon sand.  (Matthew 7:24-27) With those verses as inspiration, I penned the following short poem:

On rock or sand? It seems so clear.

What to build my life upon, O God, my Dear

I hear your words; seek to do your will

Will either foundation my desires fulfill?

For the sand is soft; it feels good under my feet

It’s easy to walk on; glimmers in the heat

I think I’ll lie down and rest before I build

There’s plenty of time; no threats that might kill

Yet beyond the horizon, I see a large rock

It protrudes from the earth; there’s a path that it blocks

I get up and draw closer, not knowing at first why

Then I notice the darkening clouds in the sky

With haste, I arrive at the stone

I cannot explain it, the feeling I’m no longer alone

But the wind is swirling, the storm is near

Upon the rock I notice an inscription: “A wise man builds here”

Quickly, I commence with the chore

Four walls, a roof, a makeshift door

The rain falls; the floods come; wind beats upon the shack

Despite all odds, my dwelling survives the attack

The storm finally passes, I step outside

There’s no more reason to run or hide

I look to the sky and cry out loud

How, O Lord, did your grace abound?

“Simple,” He says, as I begin to smile

“You took the less traveled path; walked the extra mile”

“But,” He paused, “even more important than that”

“You did the will of my Father in heaven during this Advent.”

God love you.