And you find yourself
within the words?
Yes.
Yes, it is.

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The trees know, they remember.
And now they stand, drawn inward,
upon themselves
as if shivering away from this place of horrors.

The branches do not grow out, they grow in
and up, as if to flee that which
that which the trees cannot believe
had happened in their youth.

Perhaps the trees point the way:
the road to freedom, the only one not
closed off by barbed wire fences,
that of upwards, to the sky.

Not via the crematorium:
for not all things human burn.
But rather that flight of souls
to eternal rest, salvation, and hope.

Where forever they will be free of tyranny and horror.
And their sufferings and sacrifices, their blood
will have been redemptive, in so much as they bore it
as best as they could, on earth.

Never losing their soul, even through their bodies
were wasted away.
Starved, locked up in rooms,
one meter square, with three others.

Yet never did these brave souls compromise.
Never did they give in to evil.
Diligently they squared their souls
and fought, silently, uncompromising with tyranny.

Silently continuing their song
even as megaphones blared news
of fresh military victories by their earthy enemies.
But they, redeemed, know which side wins in the end.

July 2006

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O Jesus, live in me, live in me.

March 2009

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Sweat pouring.
Effort expended.
Muscles burning.
Frustration raging.

This is not hard.
It is easier
than you
ever imagined.

But you cannot
achieve it by strength.
Only by
surrender.

November 2010

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My beloved, my dearest,
we shall discover each other
at the appointed hour,
on the appointed day.

Know I long for that hour.
I wish to hasten nearer
that joyous,
blessed day.

I must trust in my Lord and Master.
In him, I place my trust.
On him, I do rely.
For he has defeated death.

My heart burns, filled with love for my redeemer.
Love for him who made me
and who made you,
crafting us for each other, outside time.

Spending eternity
and an instant
making us
for each other.

Your faults and failings
to serve as my cross.
My faults and failings
to serve as your cross.

Each of us is tasked
to serve the other
as the principle instrument
of God’s grace.

At this point,
I give my hope of finding you
to the care of him
who made us both.

And also to his mother.
For you see, she knows
of miracles and weddings.
I trust she will prove true.

Then, resolved,
I will heed her words,
said long ago at Cana:
Do whatever he tells you.

And in so heeding
I trust that I shall
tread a path that will
lead me to his altar.

Thereupon kneeling before him,
I shall find that you too
kneel there, pursuing also
your love for him.

What better way
to find you, my dearly beloved
than kneeling before the
altar of love himself?

Thus, I trust in him.
To him, I give my heart,
my fragile heart,
to love and praise him.

And there, in love and praise,
for him to bring
our fragile hearts
together at last.

April 2009

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(How light, how light
the reign of love!)

I came ready
to bear
a heavy burden.

But received
a gift
light and delicate as a feather.

How can I bear
so precious
a gift?

My strength
alone
will not suffice.

Only love
is gentle enough to bear
love.

November 2010

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We take our hearts, carefully, cautiously;
hearts are fragile things, crafted well.
We take our hearts, bringing them now,
before the one who made them both.

We thank him now, praise and glory!
He made us both, to him the glory be.
We hold our hearts in each others’ hands.
Lovers bound by something greater.

Forever and more.
For better and worse.
I love you, dearest, I love you so.
I know that you love me too.

Lord, grant me patience.
Lord, grant me endurance.
Lord, save me from temptation
that we may meet.

And then, hold each others’ hearts.
And bring them before you.
A heart is a fragile thing, crafted well.
Oh, how my heart yearns for hers…

Written in 2000 or 2001

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She stood
stood
at the foot of the cross
while her son suffered and died.

She
is the Queen
of
Sorrows.

Shelter yourself under her mantle.
She will never abandon you,
never desert you,
never leave you.

Never was it known that
anyone who fled to her protection,
implored her help, or sought her intercession
was left unaided.

Unsought, yet found,
joy comes.
Peace tranquil,
still, and silent.

I do not understand God.
Often do I forget,
but when I do, he kindly
reminds me in his way.

Can a painting understand its artist?
A book understand its author?
A song its singer?
A program its programmer?

What is understanding anyway?
Can we every truly know another?
Or do we always see faintly;
through a glass darkly?

I do not understand God.
But whence comes this
quiet ineffable all-consuming
tranquil resolute joy?

Is it my creation?
A mind’s doing,
to pass the time while
observing a piece of bread?

It could be.
I do not understand God.
I would do well to remember:
if I did, it would not be God I understood.

So I understand.
The test of faith
lies in this uncertainty:
that love cannot go under the microscope.

If it could, it would not be love.

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And you find yourself
within the words?
If so,
I have yet to fall in love.

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