Even at Sunset, You Show Me the Passion of Your Shroud

John 19:38-42

A complete silence
settles, and utter stillness darkens
my awe, and Our Lord from
His Cross is being taken down, and
Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus
are hurrying to wrap Him with
perfumed spices…before
turns into blood-red
the night’s burial cloth.

You

Plantain Lily

You whisper,
e’en lighter than a
desert vesper.
You bleat in the meekest
voice, Your chords
in the sheepfold
mercifully ne’er hoarse.
You disperse the
sand eddies swirling in my
soul, and in dry
crags and hollows,
I learn my loneliness is
not alone.

Collage of The Old and the New

The Lord is my
hope and my salvation.
There is nothing I shall want.
In Him, hope springs
eternal, and hope
does not disappoint.
The Lord is my shepherd,
and, yea, e’en in the
valley of the shadow of
death I am not lost.
To whom else would I go?
“The Lord is my font,”
echoes my soul.
He is my portion and
to the brim fills my
cup. I am nourished by
His Word, and from
His Wisdom desert streams
to my thirst come.
Nothing can separate
me from the Love of the
Lord. He searches
me and knows me.
By His Cross He is my
Saving Hope – Christ Jesus,
the Only Begotten
Son of God.

In the Sheepfold

Isaiah 43:1

(“I Have Called You by Name”)

Oh, ’twas an unforgettable,
gorgeous, autumn day, and the
most important thing
to the petite shepherdess
was that she teach me of each
sheep the uniqueness of
their blessed name…

Creature

O Lord, You held me
cupped in Your hands, cradled
in Your arms. You made
me to tenderly lie against
Your bosom. You formed me and
shaped me until I was as
close to Your image and likeness
as a human creature could
become, and then You
looked into my face and
breathed my name, and like a
tiny mustard seed in
the womb You placed me –
into the innocent,
lush garden of an in utero,
warm enclave.^*