Sister Poetry

Sometimes waiting is long
You simply pause where 
You would rather move or do or something.
Waiting is so nothing
Nothing longing for 
Difference
But isn’t it odd.
No one moment is the other
Nothing is really the same.
So what is waiting?
Only those too blind to see really wait
Those with seeing hearts create a newness
Each moment and are alive to all.
Then there is waiting only the
Wonder of moving moments.
 

I feel this anger and I am afraid
Am I the one unjust in my perceptions
Unwilling to see the reality?
Or is my anger a cry for justice
Within the reality of all I love?
I look to go deeper yet hesitate
Because it is painful.
I long for the simple beauty,
Simpler truth, but it is not simple
Yet perhaps it is.
It is so connected and I hesitate.
I fear to speak justice
because it is so fragilly entwined
In the hearts of those I love.
I fear to cry out because
I love and because I love 
I have no choice but to cry out.
But then I must absorb the pain.
How does one absorb the pain of justice love?
For who am I to define what is just?
I look to Christ but who is to say I see?
I am among the needy even as I stand
Both sinner and lover.
Ah, the pain is the love
And the desire for something greater,
Something deeper.
And the pain is the sense of loss.
Or the fear that something precious
Might be lost or never found.

Somewhere in the centering of it all is life
But life is not mine to contain.
Ah yes, life untamed, beautiful life.
I am but a part of the connecting
Where Christ is the source-center.
It is in this Christ reality that all is made whole
All is healed, all is transformed.
And who is to heart?
Yes, Christ and yes in Christ, we.
Love-justice is we in Christ
The pain I feel is not mine alone
But ours in Him.
And so the joy and love and all this is Life..

Munchkins—they are the little ones
The ones shushed and hushed
But never quieted—not really.
They are the children whose eyes 
Delight in wonders
Whose hearts are open to love
The children who play with abandon
Begging simply to be recognized
Loved
It is so easy to love the children
And yet so often no one 
Wants to be bothered by their antics
Their pleading
Their cries
Go away—go play
Leave me aloud
Let the children come to me
For thus is the Kingdom of God.