Sister Poetry

(based on Luke 24:13)

They can
be forgiven
their blindness.
After all,
who expects
to see
a dead man
walking?

Their opening
of eyes
came
in the
breaking
of the bread.

 What opens
my eyes? 

(based on Luke 24: 1-12)

In the pre-dawn darkness
they worried their way
to the granite grave.
The whispered: 
“How will we?” froze
on their lips
at the sight.

An open, empty tomb
and other-worldly words
of reminder, remember,
and resurrection
sent them scurrying
to the others
mary-questioning
the while,
“How can this be?
 

Huddled together,
amazed and afraid,  
knowing and unsure,
they discussed:
“If Jesus’ words about
rising from the dead
were true,
than so were all the others.”

“Could it be,”
they mused, “we must
live, as Jesus did,
threatened with resurrection?”

The gift received this day, no words can describe.

Yes, you, O God, have answered my plea.

It is you who give me life,

even to the ends of the earth.

We are truly all one in reality,

yet in practice, we have miles to go—

learning to listen, to deeply hear the other.

Insights are planted when such is done-

even miracles by way of vision, sound and whatever

symbols God’s presence will occur-

if only we trust in the One who is and was and will be.

The God who holds no guilt

but only pardon and infinite love-

a love shadowed in darkness of the unknown

a love to be revealed only in eternity, where

the life span is but a spark of eternal presence,

where the Light of God’s love

can never ever completely be fathomed.

Why?

Because we are not God!

(Is 25:6-10; Mt 15:29-37)

On this mountain

There is food,

feasting,

flowing fruit of the vine;

There is fasting from tears,

forfeiture of sorrow.

On this mountain

There is freedom from physical constraints,

fishing for fragments,

foraging for flour loaves

On this mountain fallible followers find faith.

It's February and I feel Spring in the air.
They tell me it's Winter, but I know differently.
I know it's Spring. Why?
Because I saw cedar wax wings yesterday
nibbling at the dried berries on a small tree in the court yard.

They tell me it's Winter with the flu and colds around the comer.
But I know differently
because the snow has melted leaving unexpected puddles in the parking lot.
I know it's Spring because the white snow of December has turned to the gray piles of February.
They say it is dirty and not pretty
but who cares with Spring so close by.
Those gray piles will turn dry grass into green sprouts.

Yes,  I know it's Spring  because I hear a robin miles off
yet coming close to sit on a branch in my heart and whisper, "Yes, it is Spring
and I’m here to cheer you with my song.”

When you knocked at the door of my heart,
I opened it and found an old friend which I had long forgotten.

I have to relearn to enjoy your company.
My heart has forgotten your warmth, love and security.

Help me refurbish my knockers so you will not pass me by,
as I indulge in business and the mundane..
Let our friendship never die.

Snow has a beauty of its own. Whence does it come?

How does it form? Why here-now?

Scientists have all the answers.

I have my own.

***

Snow has God's DNA.

It reflects the All Pure and Holy One.

The white dusting is part of His creative plan.  A surprise, like Manna for the wandering man.

He shapes each flake in His Divine hand. No crystal duplicates another-

Just as we are unique from our own bother.

All is in His Godly design for our season,

He knows our winter loneliness, long and bleak with reason.

Hope exists with the pledge of Spring,
Waters our bareness, promises on the wing.

Yes, a new 'morow will hover.

Fresh life scintillates 'neath the white cover Sense the brightness of snow,

As Alleluias are formed beneath, below.

When you walk
 

In the light
 

Learn from the light
 

And
 

When you walk in the dark
 

See with new eyes!