All Help Is Here

“Prayer should take up and turn towards the spiritual order all the powers of our mental, emotional, and volitional life. Prayers should be the highest exercise of these powers; for here they are directed to the only adequate object of thought, of love, and of desire. It should, as it were, lift us to the top of our condition, and represent the fullest flowering of our consciousness. For here we breathe the air of the supernatural order, and attain according to our measure that communion with Reality for which we were made.” Evelyn Underhill

Look at the empty, wealthy night

The pilgrim moon!

I am the appointed hour,

The “now” that cuts

Time like a blade.

I am the unexpected flash

Beyond “yes,” beyond “no,”

The forerunner of the Word of God.

Follow my ways and I will lead you

To golden-haired Suns,

Logos and music, blameless joys,

Innocent of questions

And beyond answers:


For I, Solitude, am thine own self:

I, Nothingness, am thy All.

I, Silence, am thy Amen!           

Thomas Merton

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Hope

Seems an awful precarious vessel

By which would flow

You, or any part of You.

Even my wonder at Your goodness is

Too unreliable, too simple.

Part of and maybe the magic is

You’re to be hoped in:

No matter our fragility

Lack of dependability

Whimpering, stinking inadequacy.

You and all Your

Tendrils of light keep

Warming:

Teasing to hope.

Rally

“Lacking in nothing”

Oh, the wonder of this –

This puny puddle

Rallies a little

A slack everything

Perks up with the suggestion

And thrills

To think

It possible

Love and a Waiting Room

In the waiting room
There’re all these darling couples

All this youth and love

All this wrapped-up-in-each-other sweetness

Primped and dressed for world-presentation

There are undeniable glimpses of the behind-closed-doors them:

Their private life and intimacy’s

Worn out here too –

In the way they look deep

(with suggestions and strains of hungry)

Light touches

The business of their daily’s

Peppered with playful talk and soft laughter

They’re marked by an insulating strength

In their unuttered yet undeniable shared secret

Bound together by the primal-est bindings 

To threaten their unity-strength’s

To threaten one’s own pullulation 

Their occasional comfortable silence carries 

Right back to comfortable sharing

Inadvertently staring 

My can’t-help-it-you’re-so-beautiful sunshine

Tries soaking in theirs

Without interrupting their gravity 

Aware of my olderness and otherness

I’m startlingly struck by and reminded about the wonderfulness of people-potential

When we’re bound together by life and love

Cautioned afresh about the fragility and power of the ties that bind us

All this protected selfish loving and I

Remember our sameness

This part of humanness and

How every love affair’s uniquely its own and

Every love affair’s a wonderful miracle

As common as day

Remarkable as light

All these lovely swelling bellies

Testament to life and hope and LOVE

The preservation and perpetuation of all these 

A love affair of all of us

One of Those Days

It’s one of those days​

When I’m a little shell of a thing

Not the usual small

Smaller.

When the regular, run-of-the-mill indecision

Looks like all out perplexed and

Feels like paralysis supercharged with tension and

Progress feels like a no-option thing.

Reason (and experience) would tell me this is temporary

But a moment’s still a moment

With all its time and requirement

And can’t be discounted

A moment can feel timeless

In all the worst ways.
But wait, confusion stupor,

I don’t accept your terms!

Oh, snake oiler,

You may have enticed me with such hocked wares as these before, and

I may have bought your lines and swallowed your bitter pills once upon a time, but

I’ve no expendable currency

To support such business today.

In fact, I don’t even have time for the rest of your pitch.

Roll on by

And find some other pig to inhabit

What you offer’s not the only merchandise in town.
I’ll wait and watch and listen for

A lovelier voice

A truer product

A sweeter purchase.

I can spare this moment while I wait

I’ll hold on

For One who always offers what’s good, what’s needed, what’s best

Even if I can’t hear Him right this minute

He’s coming.

Blessedly and with Him, it’s always that day.
Thank You.

The Dark Won’t Hold

  
  All these words have already been used –

I can only hope not used up

Looking back on all this time 

And all these mine-times

Is like looking painfully and unaware 

At someone else’s life

That’s not so bad, I guess;

A long aching road’s

Being replaced by snatches of sunlight

That stretch and change

And quietly brighten all these inner rooms

Simple unexpected joys burn away 

(What I thought were) too many shadows

The light dances

In all these unexpected ways

(But always yearned after)

And the dark can’t hold

Praise His Name

The dark won’t hold

Thanksgiving

 Hard things turned sweet

Lap around my edges

What’s true and good

Trumping the dark and the hard

Life is everything I feared

And everything I hoped

And more still

Coming into my own

Even more momentous than I thought

This little voice in the wilderness

Is louder and clearer than I expected

My mouse squeak carries through the noise

My fibers pulse with lion strains

Hope doesn’t just rise

It travels ahead

And should I follow

Should I meet this melody

And sing strong with this (His) voice all intact

Other noises will continue to quiet

And take lovelier shapes

No longer fit just for silencing mine

Will sweeten in deference to the love song

Written and sung by the most unexpected and perfect and dependable

Of lovers…

Jesus, Lover of my soul

my Lion

my Song

my Savior

Culmination and realization of all the hopes and dreams of 

A world gone sour

– But that still longs to sing –

Can.

The evidence in a tiny voice finding its voice 

Clear and strong and Found

Thank You.