I AM Your Name

(Jeremiah 1:4-10)

It was I Who at the birth of
Creation first breathed upon you
The sounds of your name.
It was I Who first heard the
Letters reverberate
Amongst the eons and ages.
It was I Who inspired
The meaning lain unplumbed
Within these pages.
And it was I Who first kissed
You, long before in the
Womb you kicked as a babe.

Matthew 12: 46-50

And so Jesus said to the
Crowd pressing tightly around Him,
“Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?”
Waving His hand about Him to
His disciples, He then continued,
“Look, these are my mother and brothers!
Anyone who does the will of My
Father in Heaven is My brother and
Sister and mother!” And so when
His own mother and brothers, who were
In the crowd and heard this, they truly
Realized He had now left the quiet,
Hidden life of Nazareth, and that never
Again would things be the same…He was
Now about His “Father’s business,”
As He had once said when found in the
Temple at age twelve with the
Elders and the Teachers of the Law.
Instead of striding across Judea
And Galilee and the surrounding
Countryside, He would now stride
Across the Universe, the Word,
The Word Incarnate, the Word Made Flesh.
The Old Covenant, written on
Stone tablets, would now be freed and
Written onto hearts, and every
Creature amongst uncountable stars
Would lift their heads, with Love as the
New astrophysics and mathematics,
Both on an earthly plane near, and
Spinning on a galaxy axis far.

Ode to Lord

You observe me in Your
Pervasive “I AM WHO I AM” presence,
Never letting me go, while I, in my
Earthly obliviousness and
Nonchalance, am
Protected by You
Beneath the wing of Your
Sweet shadow. Why,
O Lord, why do You so
Faithfully suffer my
Abandonment of You?
I have far, far surpassed the
‘Three times’ before the cock in
The courtyard crowed…

Eternity’s Sea

Out it froths, as from
An inexhaustible fount of Word,
From a Source far beyond
All creature knowledge, but
Yet a humble foam eager
To greet my footprints
Face to face on the beach,
My steps, those of a pilgrim come
From afar like once did three
Wise visitors from the east,
When the tremendous roar of a
Rushing sea across sand
And stars was heard, and was
Forever altered the countenance
Of God… when it took
On the image of an infant
In a poor stable, and in the
Newborn’s hand was clenched
A sword of straw.

Christmas

No poem cometh…and
Momentarily I am
Mute in the
Silence…and e’en
My unharnessed thoughts
Are made to be
Bridled and to bow,
As my mind recuses
Itself before the
Awe of today’s humble
Majesty, and I realize
To do nothing is
All I am allowed.