Fusion, A New Year Hymn

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Leave behind all that served,
a heart burst with love
used up, as it should be,
open and ready to be
filled once more

Stay voices that called out
to raise and crush,
for you are a new hymn,
the wren will defer to
your chickadee winter song,
a hint of Phoebe spring

Let hardened blows
cover in snow, leave them
forgotten, iced under where
hurt cannot escape, your muscled
spirit secure in constancy

Abandon vacant pods, hewn branches,
exhausted beds, carry with you only
wisdom gleaned, germination
unfolding a newborn empathy

All you were has crumbled
into earthly marl, open the gate,
no fear in choosing, for within you burns
a light for any passage, a light to
blaze a new you

A simple deviation
one foot in front of the other
through a yawning threshold
into unimaginable Being,
a fusion into One

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Author’s Note:

Happy New Year!

And gratitude to all those who graced my past year and made it shine, especially Stefan Andre Waligur, Kathleen Gorman, Scott Jenkins, Marcy Baruch, Kathleen E. Moore, Steve Bross, Mary Lynn Greene, and Niki Kessinger, and of course, my boys, Leroy, Dad, and Bremen. Without you, my light would not shine and my heart would not be overflowing.

Innocent

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I hear the neighbor scraping
snow from our sidewalk,
it is an act of gratitude for
use of our driveway, although
we never require repayment

I would prefer to allow snow
to pile up for a little longer,
to see its pure white face
untouched, at peace, before
innocence is lifted away

But snow continues to
fall, covers the neighbor’s
scratch marks, leaves an icy
under glaze for unwary feet
braving the frigid storm,
unaware of hidden danger

This in-between time, between
the years, between dark and
lightening of days I watch
in gratitude flakes covering the
ground, a hushed season’s rite

Sun hidden in between infinity
and cloud, yet light reflects,
diffused, remains bright enough
to find my way through the day
if I were to venture out

In between me and you I
diffuse your light, your
whispered words of grace,
boundaries dissolve in your
patient hands, you await me

A Winter Prayer

The 4th Day of Christmas
Photo by Tom Neyland

Photo by Tom Neyland

Down the path just a little way
is my destination
I travel the same road each day
knowing the route
And yet when snow covers hiding
my guideposts
and shadows play games to make
me unsure
I know you do not abandon me
on my course

On this day of sun and snow and
winter chill
In this life of uncertainty I know
you are here
I wear your coat wrapped in
compassion
Kindness dresses me in gentle
words
Patience gives me time to
listen
And I do not seek more than I
require

I navigate this day in wisdom
and gratitude
I am fearless because we are
One

Amen

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Author’s Note:

A special thank you to my friend Tom Neyland for the inspiration and use of his photo.

One of today’s readings, from Biblegateway.com:

Colossians 3:12-17 (NRSVCE)

12 As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. 13 Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord[a] has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. 14 Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. 15 And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. 16 Let the word of Christ[b] dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.[c] 17 And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Stephen

Stephen

The 3rd Day of Chirstmas

A fire burns low, blue hot as shiny spandexed
riders speed past. A tin bears sufficient fuel,
warms the cold, bides time until the traffic ebbs
near the river winding through the city. Here this

tea party offers no scones or steaming earl grey.
There is no crown for the guest of honor, no guest
of honor at all. The music of the wren tucked
safely high into a corner of the bridge, an
afternoon’s diversion. As the flame dies out,

laughter barrels across an austere night with stories
wide. A bottle passes from hand to hand, sharing
the only gift to warm stiff bones and hearts isolated
in the chill. Stephen’s crown a touchstone. The wren

who nests with family dear a paragon. His martyr’s
words ring through my days, make room for
those forgotten. I pack my box this Boxing Day,
not with trinkets, but with his humanity to be
freely given away.

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Author’s Note:

Well, the best of intentions get sideswiped sometimes.

I am re-posting a poem from last year’s 12 Days of Christmas poetry project. I hope to be back on track later today for the 4th Day of Christmas.

Some Storms

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Some storms blow in
make their presence known
cover ground and fill sky so
completely with their fury
white and cold suffocate
all under siege

Today a snowy mist
put down minimal icing
quiet enough to hear your
breathing on earth
a whispered I am

I hear your presence in the
gentle fall of flakes sitting
on black asphalt, a deep
call within to listen
then see, and feel

I should stand just once
sans coat and shoes
palms open to the sky
bare feet against the ground
allow your wintery rime to
cover me the same as I
assent to summer sun

I only see stars when
dark night shades the sky

I understand your warmth
only after I have known cold

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Author’s Note:

A reflection on becoming quiet, learning to listen, and Ferguson MO. Thank you Ryan Taylor, Tall Monastic Guy, and those with you who are learning to listen and helping me to do the same.

A New Christ-tango

Nativity by Lex, Brushstroke on iPhone

Nativity by Lex, Brushstroke on iPhone

Receive joy
look through the dark
to the shining light
there, yes, right there
inside, don’t deny, it’s
yours

Receive joy
leave behind your broken
mirror for just one day
there is your joy
patient for you, it
awaits

Receive joy
see all your beauty
given with love, not
in comparison, your
beauty calls
to be painted on the
canvass for all

Receive you
you and our One
cannot be separate
We are Light
We are the Mirror
We are Beauty

This day receive Joy
and dance with abandon
a new Christ-tango,
your heart is full,
let it overflow.

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Merry Christmas, all.

Advent Geese, A Solstice Consecration

They were there.

In the silent sky early on my daily
drives, wings flapped. Although they
were too far away to see motion’s grace
or hear wind rush over and under
hollow-boned arms, I saw them.
A patterned V placed their purpose.

There were geese this fall with each
journey outside. It must be true
of this time of year, a thing
I never noticed.

Seldom did they make their voices known,
but they were always there. Gliding in front
of a full moon, a photo unable to impress
upon an iPhone screen.

They were there in afternoon walks, in
sun and grey filled skies. At night when
words flowed from my fingers in depths
of darkness. Then I could hear the cry,
in midnight still, their cry to me.

On this morning of Winter’s Solstice, four
times an Advent celebration, a new moon
soon to birth her smile, they were there.

Fireballs falling from a sky kissed by a
rising sun. A fairytale vision. Golden-winged
snitches raced across the blue, soared
over rooftops. The end of a fireworks
display, that last brave spark to shower earth
when all color has spent itself and drops only
burning embers to please the eye.

They were there. Not alien ships as misunderstood
by more fantastic eyes, but geese reflecting an
ascending light, pointing to a new beginning,
a path to take, a voice now heard, a song in
tandem harmony.

I stepped once again into this morning one last
time, three flew as one. In a moment’s breath
one departed on a path laid down only for a sole
navigator. Alone, and yet, eternally Three In One.

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Author’s Note:

I had quite an interesting experience this morning and wanted to capture it. However, I think the explanation below will help with understanding my words above.

I was sitting in the family room this morning looking out the top windows when I saw this big ball of light falling from the sky. I said to Leroy, “I just saw a falling star?” He said, “Meteor.” It’s a joke from the past. (Apparently, some amateur astronomers (not my husband) have little fancy about them. I was sternly corrected when I mentioned falling stars in the presence of one of these amateurs while visiting a local star night at Gates Planetarium a few years back.)

I looked up again and saw another. It looked like it was on fire. I know I will sound crazy when I say this, but it looked like a Quidditch snitch. It was a ball of fire with wings.

He stood up and as soon as he looked out the window there was another. Spooked, we went outside and looked up to the skies. One more and then nothing. After about a half a minute of searching the skies, a flock of geese in a V pattern flew past lit by the sun.

Even though these beautiful creatures were also ablaze, they were white light, so bright they didn’t look real. The other single ones were golden fire. We watched and realized that the falling balls of fire we both saw were individual geese lit up by this Solstice sun.

What a blessing to see these balls of fire flying through the air.