Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight.
-Proverbs 3:5 RSV CE
The Lord, He calls, and calls to follow Him.
I think I know the place to which He leads,
But when He finds me thinking certitude
He turns me to the right; reminds me I’m not Him.
Humility, restored, why don’t you hurt?
Oh, Christ has been below you, too,
And when you come to me, it is because
The lost and found is hoisted by the King,
Upon His shoulders carried to the court
He’s leading home. What will it be? When we
Arrive we’ll finally know all we have known:
When I was certain, what I knew was not
But dust next to the glory of His throne,
Was not at all the Love that is His home.
I never truly understand stained glass:
The flicker flame reflects off red and blue
And other hues of all these Saints and I
Am caught up in the Mystery of Light.
The Light beyond the glass shines through
Illuminating lives I never knew.
Or do I know them better when the Light
Shines through; what does not come alive with Light.
Enthroned in panes just west of St. Louis,
A King and consort beam upon the pews.
But as I look, Saint Seton’s who I see:
A glass lit as she teaches children from
The Word held gently in her hand, and I–
Heartfelt– am where fire burns and never burns.
The God of meek and small weak ones is Love.
How can it be that all you see is Writ
So large? You must be looking wrongly. Sight
With eyes that see from hearts are what you need.
The heart, where body-soul transpire is where
Your vision must be found. And I am blind…
My soul, cerebral is, and in the dark,
Am drifting, listless, in my mind all night.
I see the world but I’m not of this world
And so I search for my heart’s sight.
The night is dark and I am stumbling for
The eyes of faith illuminating right.
Now I am lost and so I cry for you
I pray you call me soon so I might turn to Truth.
Once Did the Amazon Pause
What hush and still comes with this day’s sunset?
Swift decrescendo of a vivid song
Of life: the Amazon takes concert pause—
The teaming sound of all that creeks and chirps
And all that wails to call her fellow kind
Hears a crescendo of the civilized—
First ever miracle of moments in
Her grand and wild predating ages’ time.
What is it that the din of creatures hears
But chant of hymn so far refined as this
Sweet resonant song’s beauty? Mastery
Of practice praising love sublime in heights
Beyond what any tribal villager
On Western shores has heard. Four hooded men,
And habit clad, in quest of rumored huts,
For there the Gospel yet is unproclaimed.
Thus halting under forest canopy
At dim of light of day, a Vespers sung
So suddenly amid the wilderness
Is so unrecognizable it tames
What knows not order of simplicity
But is a now attentive audience,
This Liturgy of Hours, the Amazon,
Too, pauses at God’s praises sung.