CALLING YOU

If I call to you tonight
across the distance
and ask you to look at the moon,
will you hear the words I'm praying?

If I call to you tonight
from the depth of my being
as I gently drift to sleep,
will you see the world I'm dreaming?

If I call to you tonight
with hope of love returning
will you share your prayers and dreams with me
and banish darkness from our bed?

VISION OF GRACE

Into the dark and silent night
came a whisper of a gentle breeze
followed by the pale glow of filtered ivory light.
While the mild brush of air across my face was a welcome relief,
my reluctant eyes squinted in response to the light.
Since sweet sleep had taken hold of me hours before,
and with many hours to go,
I desperately tried to return
to that place without fully waking.
But the brown-haired, blue-eyed angel
with multi-colored wings had another plan.
I’d longed to see her and hear her voice many times before,
but force of will is impotent in that nether world.
She comes at her own bidding,
and speaks the simple blessing, “I will,”
a response to my plea for assistance.
So I shall rest before I take up my holy work
now blessed by this vision of grace.

PERCHANCE TO DREAM

So now the noose,
loosened by another
brings air and light
to a dark corner
I thought well lit.
Time to sit, to be,
to dream with abandon
for the day is here
when wishes may be granted.
No squandering
on small plans as my
day of reckoning
and judgment has come.
Let me run
to where I pray best
and settle there
in bliss.

ASH WEDNESDAY

On this February morning,
not fully winter, not quite spring,
the palest lemonade-colored sun
rises weakly over the lake.
A still fog sits over the water,
trapping a ship in time just as
the frozen waters anchor it in place.
A waterfront bench entombed in
snow serves no purpose but to remind
us of a nearly past storm.
A good day to be stuck in time
on a fulcrum of faith’s calendar.
Let us take our cue from nature
and sit with this threshold day as it requires.

TRUST

Trust is faith’s experienced sister,
a mortal creature, born of earth,
strong as sinew, flesh and bone,
but fragile as a hasty tongue.

Faith requires breath and light,
communion with the Other;
an irrational response to love
eternal and forgiving.

But Trust demands a constant touch,
as Doubt has potent power,
to poison a neglected heart
and breed a plot of pain.

So shall we send Doubt on its way,
through Faith which heals our wounds?
Or, does Trust as an earthly bane
resist Faith's sacred balm?

"Eloi, Eloi, lema sabacthani."

Ancient words caress my ear,
they relieve my battered soul.
I'll live within my Lord's refuge,
until my heart's remade as whole.

EVERY MAN'S WALK
MEN'S RETREAT
CLEVELAND - 2/9-2/11/07

The starlit night breeds anticipation
of communion shared with the souls of brave men
gathered together in a sacred circle
as song and dance lift our hearts as one.

Every man's walk as a father and son
through the fields we labor to be loyal and true
to our calling to be authentic and loving
tempted not by cheap rewards, praise or pride.

At day's end can you look in your brother's clear eyes
and not turn away when your visage appears?
Do you see primal beauty when you pause for a moment
to consider who you see in those eyes?

DEEP DARKNESS

There are times I can’t open my eyes,
but most times I find I don’t panic,
for it’s then I believe God hasn’t finished
the painting he wants me to see.

It’s not just my eyes he paints for,
but for those who take time to look closely
at how even the simplest clutch of icicles
can reveal more stories than a book.

There are times I can’t open my eyes,
but then I remember His promise
to provide me with all that I’ll need
exactly when I need it.

Pictures can be the balm my soul craves,
wordless, breathless and silent,
but darkness can take me nearer the Deep
and feed my hunger for trust.

THE MOON

I could stand and watch

the moon for hours,
sometimes I even do.
My own private moon it seems,
illuminating my dreams
and letting me take a good look
where I long to be.
I’m not embarrassed by
the relentless stare,
as I watch the stories I imagine
unfold in her ancient face.
They always turn out right
on this stage of no regrets,
a beautiful rehearsal
for the paper thin hopes
of my heart.

HOPE

I don't really have a

poem for this, but

this photo that I

took on the

grounds of Our

Lady of Gethsemani

Abbey in Trappist, Kentucky in October, 2006,

keeps popping into my head today. When I

look at it, I'm filled with hope.

How about you?

LABYRINTH

Quietly before the holy circle,
I stand and shape my thoughts into a prayer.
A quick splash from the bowl of blessed water,
I’m on my way, heav’n only knows just where.

It always starts with heav’ly shouldered burdens
carried up and down each narrow path.
With every shuffling step the load reminds me
of choices made each time I take a breath.

But now it’s time to offload some old patterns
that served me in the past but nevermore.
New behaviors that’ll bring me one step closer
to Hosannahs as I step inside the Door.

The holy center brings me time to ponder
what gifts I’ll take ‘long with me as I leave.
What lessons have I learned to make me truer
to the person in the mirror that I see?

Kindness and a peaceful heart, they join me
on this walk back to a world called real.
Can I keep these presents right before me
and silently impart these gifts to heal?

The straight path from the lab’rinth lies before me
a deep full breath I use to fill my lungs.
Resolved to live my life with holy abandon
I’m sure now that forever I’ll be young.