Today is the day, the moment, the now,
extinguish the flame of fear.
Smother embers of hatred beneath
steps taken in compassion.Let smoke of bitterness rise,
dissipate into wide ocean sky.May clemency shine through us to
quell the bleakness of terror.May our hands join to bear our Oneness.
May our voices lift above the madness
to sing a song of accord.Guide us to be strong in You.
Amen. Amen. Amen.
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Author’s Note:
For more about the poem and photo, please visit my page: Journey/lex.
Please visit my Celtic Kirtan Chant page for more information on this amazing CD I had the honor and pleasure being a part of creating.
Leave behind all that served,
a heart burst with love
used up, as it should be,
open and ready to be
filled once moreStay 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 springLet hardened blows
cover in snow, leave them
forgotten, iced under where
hurt cannot escape, your muscled
spirit secure in constancyAbandon vacant pods, hewn branches,
exhausted beds, carry with you only
wisdom gleaned, germination
unfolding a newborn empathyAll 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 youA 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.
My child,
Never forget you are
a child of the Beloved,
rocked in her gracious arms,
held safe under his gaze.
You are a child of the Beloved.
Not one of you turned away.
Not one of you held closer
than the other.My child,
You are sisters and brothers of
one another, one family in the Beloved.
The earth does not belong to you,
its land and fruits, all gifts to be shared,
gifts to be tended,
just as the Beloved nurses you.My child,
you are a child of the Beloved.
Not one of you more precious,
not one of you more cherished
than the other.
Mother and terrorist,
teacher and gunman,
oppressed and the oppressor,
rest in the lap of the Beloved
swathed in forgiveness,
all made whole.My child,
do not forget you are a child
of the Beloved, compassion
and grace rain down upon you
with boundless, unselfish passion.My child,
Child of the Beloved,
in gratitude,
be a mirror of your Beloved.
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Author’s Note:
I struggled for a long time with how to write this poem. What form it should take? What exactly did I want to say?
I am a first grade teacher. Sandy Hook.
I live in Aurora. The Aurora Movie Theatre Shooting.
I live in Colorado. Columbine.
I am a United States citizen. 911.
The rest of the world has experienced terrorism for millennia, much longer and more intimately than I have. These current killings – Gaza and Ukraine – brought me back to the empty page.
I don’t know if it is due to my recent study of the Gospel of John with Fr. Scott Jenkins at my church. If it is the Celtic kirtan chant project I am involved in, with Macushla introducing me to the Irish lament. My recent immersion into Mary Magadlene, giving voice to her story in a monologue I wrote and will be performing later this year. Or my satsang friend, a mother, with a daughter in Israel and another friend, a mother, whose mother and father live in Palestine. It must be combination of all of these events and people that kept me from sleep this evening, muses that finally led me to this poem.
The insanity of killing one another must stop. I don’t know how, but I think it is summed up in a quote I read earlier this night from an Israeli. In response to a call for prayer from the Book of Isaiah, he said rather eloquently and simply:
“AMEN to Shalom over ego.”
I wish you peace this night and a blessing of surrender of ego.
Here is one of Macushla’s songs, “We Are Beloved of God.”
I sat in the rain. It was a pouring cold rain
that was much too cold for this June day.I wanted to feel this June’s deluge so I lifted
my face and tears from the sky poured overmy despair. I wanted to feel the pouring cold
rain, June’s deluge washing me of my sin.Thunder rolled by and over my bearing. It filled
my ears. I cried out in tandem. I released my painto the pouring cold deluge, much to cold for
this June day. My tears were diluted with freshnew water as I sat on a step under trees bowing,
unable to balance, not one extra drop, no longer.My breath almost drowned, flowed out and down
until the lawn could hold no more. So I walked withthe deluge along bulging gutters, feet submerged
in June’s cold rain. I kicked at rain waters andstomped on the waves rushing into the deep black
gash. The day’s deluge gulped down by the sewerstook my crimes and washed them away on this
cold June day. The deluge slowed. Streams turnedinto drops. Then droplets. Then nothing at all. I raised
my face up to June’s grey day in gratitude of itscleansing. I know that from rain green grows lush
and glorious, blooms arise with colors to adorn.The deluge always cleanses. Pouring cold rain,
much too cold for this June day.
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Author’s Note:
I was recently introduced to the lament. In a Celtic Spirituality retreat with Stefan Andre Waligur, I experienced the call and response of the lament. He spoke of how in our Western culture are afraid to let go of our emotions, especially in community. And subsequently we do not heal. We have lost a togetherness that only this opening of oneself, this free flow of emotion can offer.
Today as I sat waiting for tornado sirens to silence, listening to the relentless rain, I felt as if the world was in lament. I know this rain, once the damage from the hail heals, will bring new life to my garden. Much like a lament.
Thank you, Stefan.
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Although this is not a lament, it is a lovely example of the kind of chanting we experienced at our retreat.
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