Thursday, February 13, 2014


A world caught in orbital planes will tilt,
And circles the burning sun in elliptical arc,
The cosmos awash in a symmetry of gravity,
Matter, dark matter or spirit haunts the galaxy,
Bends dimensions in forces fearful, yet lovely,
Expanding in blossom or contracting in wilt,
By the powers.

An awesome ballet of quasars and clusters,
Somewhere a small bead of green and blue,
In a small graceful spin around a small star,
By the measure of worlds, not even on par,
Yet a Spirit breathed there, o'er the horizon,
Ex nihilo evolved -- as the creation musters,
To the song.

One man, one night, walks below a satellite,
All aglow in the light of the seraphims' wings,
He sees whom he cannot with eyes of a soul,
Breathes like a newborn, content and whole,
Though he prints the sand on a distant shore,
Swearing love and fealty, a young acolyte,
To a Saint.

Wandering below such skies -- ambering dawn,
The expanse of the cosmos pales as his eyes,
Burn a hole in the canvass and plead to the God,
To bridge the distance of miles of sea and of sod,
To the one, that in all the heavens and all the earths,
Is she, the one that his heart is hopelessly drawn,
To revere.

Oh, how I miss her eyes,
Oh, how I miss her touch,
Oh, how I miss her smile,
Oh, how I miss her soul.

Beloved, beloved, beloved,

Friday, January 24, 2014


And as the horizon bends the sky,
My gaze reaches 'round the globe,
Unfurl oh wings--let spirits soar,
Surely must be more and more,
Of  sweet days where you are near,
And your smile to paint mine eye.

As the horizon bleeds red to black,
My soul is mourning the dying day,
As arms and fingers comb the air,
And love is lifted in skyward stare,
"Alas, alas, frail frame of clay,"
Bound in space be such a lack.

As your horizon and mine are wed,
My love, voice and touch now one,
Embraced, enfolded in angel wings,
And now wordless as spirit sings,
Praise--Beloved! We are undone,
And remade, sharing this Holy bread.


Wednesday, December 25, 2013

One Life in Grace

In my living years, there came a new time,
Where winter's cold sloughs off  as a dream,
And buds and blossoms from an old branch,
When leaves unfurl, in warm light unfurl,
And the steeple bells sweetly ring their chime.

One day, a cool breeze waters my eyes pining,
A whispering air—'tis love's sweetest song —
A solemn hymn: "the spirit and the gifts are ours." (1) 
Relearning to love as if nothing were my own,
Awakening the will, to Easter's life aligning. 

Luminous days swallow this seedling soul,
And as the hours gyre the paths that I will take,
Shadows ebb and flow about my wicker frame,
Skin and breath — compass every pain and grace,
The cloth where lament and love make up the whole.

And awakening in love I see the gift of days,
Days where  love and grace heal a fitful soul,
Life — where love is given and love is given back.
A dying unto living, a journey to places never seen,
'Til broken hearts be overtaken in psalms of praise.

And though new days and years in time will fade,
This love speaks so loudly of the love of God,
And seen, and being seen, and beloved even still,
Renita, a sacrament that baptizes one life in grace,
Her holy love outshines the many years of shade.

One life,
In grace.

1. From the Hymn of Martin Luther: "A Mighty Fortress is Our God."


The ages have seen the sorrows,
Sorrows of all who draw breath,
Hours, to days, the years, to ages,
The birth-cord entangles with death.

Patriarch, heroines, prophets of old,
Promise in story; world without end.
Every denouement always unravels,
Every last breath will always portend.

'Til Christ is born, in Bethlehem town,
Seraph singers, shepherd supplicants,
Indigent cries echoed in Gloria choirs,
Foreshadow fulfillment of the covenant.

Our sacrament brother the story's end,
Hands and feet, our bread and our wine.
As Mary's suckles the Lord of creation,
Our stories and woes with His intertwine.

"Through him, and with him, and in him. . .
World without end, Amen." (1)

1. Adapted from the Eucharistic doxology.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013


There are times,
Weary of the wear,
The mileage of the soul,
Hollow is the stare,
Midnight chimes.

There are days,
Grinding narratives,
The unraveling of spirit,
Collapsing pyramids,
Mounds of malaise.

There is one,
Who is of our own,
The fullness of all beauty,
The dark we have sown,
Pierced and undone.

There is a love,
Mends a bruised reed,
The ending of our endings,
This succor and feed,
We in such need of.

There is salvation,
Smoking wick attended,
The truth of what we long for,
Pain and joys ascended,
A beautiful translation.


"A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out." Matthew 12:20.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

New Morn

I wonder as I wander out under the sky, (1)
That I live this life at this time in my life,
The sunrise meets eyes -- gleams numinous,
Each leaf and each form burns luminous,
And in a world molded in sorrow and strife,
I wander wondering, beloved  below sky.

I wonder --advent, "in the bleak mid-winter," (2)
That I breathe aurora's air with baited breath,
Angels of my nature shuffle in new formation,
Amity and charity in a surprising incarnation,
And in a world haunted by the shadow of death,
I, strangely warmed amid the winds of winter.

I wonder at the morn, "like the first morning" (3)
That crusty eyes blink at first the blush of sun,
That I be basking in light and love undeserved,
Enthralled with Renita in a dance unreserved,
And though life is of tears, this day has begun,
"Morning has Broken, like the first morning." (4)

Awake my love,
Wander with me,
Wonder with me,
In this new morn.


1. I Wonder as I Wander, by John Jacob Niles

2. In the Bleak Midwinter by Christina Rossetti

3. Morning Has Broken by Eleanor Farjeon
4. Morning Has Broken by Eleanor Farjeon

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Better Angels

Every lovely place and every lovely dream,
A negative of contrast to what is daily seen,
The fracture that is at the heart of everything,
Inweaves as every heart knows the bitter sting,
Lo, even in eyes that show the heart of love,
A sorrow will befall the sight of a fallen dove.

Revealed in moonlight calls of midnight howl,
As dancers falter, though they be cheek by jowl,
The very crack that allowed light to flood within,
The fault where seeps the sound of dark chagrin,
Lo, even in ears that bend towards the beloved,
A chord is pulled tethered to feeling so unloved.

There is a wincing, when a heart is pricked in pain,
The fear of loss a darkness marked by bitter stain,
When the sweetness of fellowship is sore eclipsed.
A gaze to distant hills, and sight firmly transfixed.
Lo, once more,the music that echoes in the spheres,
A touch again, like spit to eyes, and my vision clears.

In wonder at the angels of your nature taking flight,
And I pulled in as they wing to precipitous height,
You and I, our humanity, caught up in redemption,
As Love each day writes the story of our salvation,
Lo, in dark places this something beautiful emerges,
Shaping our true selves as love's hot alchemy purges.