Rebirth
Equines
To think, lo aft all
these millennia, they still
patiently await their
Savior’s return, horses, gathered
as they are at the shoreline
of His heavenly carpet,
just as they were at
the Bethlehem stable and
amongst the crowd
of flowing, colorful robes
when Jesus whispered
the Beatitudes in
His Sermon on the Mount.
There was something
special about Him.
He listened to them, and
when He spoke, even
at ease were placed the
wildest tides. And
so now they wait…At first
they thought His
Second Coming would
be imminent, but that was
before they realized
He was not bound by simple
space and time. The
sand grains gave testament
and final clues to this –
finest granite rock
they once stood, sheer
slabs of almighty might, but now
in their humbleness,
reduced to infinitesimal
specks…content, imprinted
on the bottoms of each
horse’s hooves.
Emptying
(John 2:1-11)
At the Wedding Feast of
Cana I am, traversing there in my
mind, watching, observing
all the joyous people, no longer
limited by space and time,
lingering in the background
at the periphery of all the guests,
not hoping for my stone
water jar to be filled, but rather
the intercession of the
Blessed Mother with her Son,
to have the vessel be
emptied of its useless fear
and despair.
John 11:35
("Jesus Wept")
All the people whom
Jesus helped – the little people,
the poor, the outcasts,
the marginalized, almost all of
whom are unknown and
unreferenced in the Gospels, those
people, these people,
became like drops of moisture
in the quiet, sweet waters
of the 23rd Psalm.
In their anonymity, they
assumed their place
in the community of saints,
and outward they
rippled over all of Palestine,
shouting hosannas in
the present tense of “I AM”
rhyme.
Psalm 121:2
("My Help Comes from the Lord")
A carpet of golden
yellow, a spiritual journey sown by the
breath of the Creator’s
hand Himself, and there
I behold the faintest outlines of
a path, and ginkgo
petals beckon to cushion
the soles of my feet – and to assuage
any underlying fears and
autumnal doubts of where
I am, and where
righteousness leads.
Saving Mercy
O Lord, “create in me
a clean heart” and wash the soiled
memories and reasonings
from the murals to which I cling.*
“Leadeth me beside the
still waters,” wherefrom Your Love can
bathe my soul in Beauty.**
O Lord, “create in me
a clean heart,” and I, in surety, can in
Your sheepfold rest in peace,
dipping my gourd into
Your living spring, eternally
slaking what before
could not be relieved.***