Christian, personal, prose
silhouette of graves

Photo by Micael Widell on Pexels.com

When my husband and I married all those years ago, cough…my mind wasn’t prepared for how well acquainted we would become with death, he especially. So much church and ministry life happens quietly, behind the scenes, as it should, and there are these extraordinary, jewelled moments, of being with people before, and as they die. These privileged moments of intimacy, I would not normally have had, and for the most part, I am very grateful for them.

One of my most precious life experiences was to type up the memoirs of one of our dear elderly church members, for his family. He dictated to me his life story. It is one of the most profoundly moving experiences I have ever had. His humility often moved me to tears. And on one particular day, it struck me just what an intimate experience it was, being privy to things no one else in his family knew about. But he died before we were finished, which devastated me.

It has been a few years now, since he passed away, and I still miss him immensely. His wife was, and still is, one of the organists for one of our churches. After his death, she still insisted on playing, even though her intense grief affected it. I remember one Sunday when she simply stumbled to a complete stop during the liturgy. The congregation kept singing, even louder than normal for her sake, and it was one of the most beautiful and heartfelt moments I have ever been a part of. It also made me think we should sing unaccompanied a lot more often! It was divine.

We are currently in a time of death – deaths always come in, at least, threes. And I have posted about this before, (my third post I think it was!) with this monumental clip, which I wanted to post again. So that it is in my face for a while.
And I hope you will enjoy it, too, even just for its gorgeous artistry.

 

Standard
Christian, Poetry

the aching sweetness of pierce…

in childhood.

Those tears –

crystallised
in hovered cadence,

unspoken
epiphanies’ radiance,

beyond the reckoning,
the reasoning
of fractured eyes
and thwarted whys,

bursting up through the belies,

the linguistic instant
of heartfelt cries

angelic.

(I remember seeing this on television when it was first performed. and the music wrecked me (no pun intended). I am not Catholic, but this small section was my favourite part. For those of you who practice it, God bless your Easter meditations.)

Originally posted: April 15th, 2017

(Just discovered this video no longer plays here, and likely other places. I found this one but the quality is not nearly as good, unfortunately. The snippet I loved is between 6:50 and 7:35.)

 

 

Standard
Christian, personal, Poetry

something (revisited)

I need a moment,
a moment measured only
in light years,

the oracular thread
through centuries
and non,

encaptured, enraptured
by deepest tones
geographically strata-ed,
through past and present,

eyes so gently gently replaced
with brushes archeologically
bristling with Him,

joyful in newborn
reunion

the blind man was healed
and the tenses were spilled

and millennial mysteries unravelled
into new ravelling of me.

and the blind woman was healed

 

 

originally posted 26th March, 2017
Standard
Christian, Poetry

what are the words for mothers’ day? (revisited as a Christmas meditation)

a day that’s already bled in
(365 times Hallmark)
to our psyches’ movement
through mountained plains

perpetual translating
of the countenanced refrains
that echo
after birth.

The depth obfuscated, unsung
fully,
we play punctiliously with undone
really
and the cardium layers hold hands
tightly
tremoring with the ache
of a thousand forms.

And there’s no way to finish these lines
kaleidoscoped mystery of a Child’s eyes…

Standard
Christian, prose

the silence after the implosion was not deafening (revisited)

Canberra trip 108.jpg

They always loved the way they both loved waterfalls.
As if it weren’t enough to drive through that scenery on the way, with its exhilarating verdancy,  the serpentine paths unmarked, illuminated by their shared love of, well, their shared love.

But now, his muscles twitched.
Her emotions repelled down, down from the cliff of his hardened inner life. Over the cascade of his own unformulations. Starting that landslide, you know, the inward one. The one that implodes stars…

leaving burn marks on the pavement. The ones that stranger, whistling at the end of the week, steps over.
He’s wishing those darn kids would quit playing with fireworks again!
But, you have to admit, it IS a great night for a campfire…

 

Originally posted Jan 13th, 2017

Standard

image1-8

you pulled away

the footsteps coiling around my neck.

a gentleness bled

into prints excoriated

 

the first rains crawling

along droughted river beds

shoe shaped cracks that choke

~

my heart swept up

into Your dark embrace

the Darkness beyond human myopia

 

seen only through the lens

of tears given Divine

You reached through dimensions

of suffering, the kind

 

that decodes DNA

and breathes, reanimates

 

Eye to eye

Heart to heart

humility scorned

now plays the part…

 

 

 

Photo credit: my husband

Christian, Poetry

you pulled away

Image
Christian, General bewilderment, Poetry

the deafening…

 

431481_10151393198200383_1271164562_n

quiet

of the mirror falling

breaking into shards of rain

 

The welcome filling

of  unwelcome cracks

in the halls of the criminally sane.

 

The midnighting of light

and the folding of the fan of every colour

into its resting place

 

the praying of the weary

the relief in flowing tears, theres no grieving

for the mirror’s freak showed face.

~+~

photo credit: Alex Voigt

Standard
Christian, personal, Poetry

it poemed through your death…

image3-2

…the colour from her dream,

it drained right through dimensions,

the syntax, and the stream.

Euphonious not to mourners

the notes unveiled in grief,

but heaven writes the harmonies

and descants of relief.

A young life filled with purpose

and at peace with what was granted,

the air broke into sombre tears

and drenched our hearts enchanted.

Our thoughts fragmented bloodlessly,

were washed and torn united,

we shared the pieces silently

a mosaic of love requited.

We will never be the same again

for all the death we’ve seen,

my heart is full of unexplained

it bows to deeds unseen…

 

(This was the recessional song for young Tyler’s funeral. That whole experience was incredibly moving. We hadn’t been in touch for a while as he had moved away. His Dad shared the story that a couple of weeks before his accident, his girlfriend had a dream that he died. She was, of course, really upset by it and discussed it with Tyler. He talked about what he would want if it actually happened. One of the things that came out was that he wanted to be an organ donor. So as of that morning, his Dad informed everyone during his tribute, that two men had been saved by his kidneys…)

Standard
Christian, Fiction, prose

she left

She heard them! The chords of cogency. Crescendoing. Pulsating with hermeneutical harmonies that filled her with a sensation she hadn’t felt in years. The clarity descending in notes that burst her heart.
Her heart. That’s what she could feel!

She was right to leave.
And she didn’t just walk. She floated. On the weightless tears of Another.
He turned her back, from face down, and she left forever.
Right out of that grave.

 

Standard

cropped-img_20160624_1549365683.jpg

 

crocheting continuity

in the weaving waves

of sound sublimity,

 

the embossing of the

dimensional trinity

 

by the cerebral unity,

 

g(r)asped by incredulous senses converted

to heights of clarity –

 

the aching symphony

 

scaffolding the wholing

of peace.

Christian, Poetry

“adam and eve”

Image
Christian, Poetry

She climbed for the view…

Old photos 1273.jpg

over all of the pieces

missing in action

 

but so far from field

she was too high to collect

any meaningful

 

semblance of early

configurations of their

mis-relationship.

 

She had to go down

and follow the river bed,

to lie underneath,

 

to wait in the depths.

Heart broken by the sight and

defibrillated

 

by the breath of One

already there, bleeding out

poem’s syllables.

 

 

 

Standard
Christian, personal, Poetry

you know I’ll only say wiedersehen

what a recondite day for a funeral

the sky the colour of wind

with it’s abstruse way of connecting

and a restless need to rescind

 

the boundaries of pre conceived notions

that death is a part of life

we weren’t created to be separated

I’ll never stop thinking we’re rife

 

with the agonies of dimensional distance

cunning, convoluted and cruel

I thank God for blessed reunions

and perfuming the stench of death’s fuel.

 

 

Standard
Christian, Poetry

something (part two)

 

Midnight tunes

thought balloons

filled in, and

it’s coming around again.

 

misplaced clowns

haunted frowns

shaving paint

the mirror’s afloat again.

 

poignant eyes

bleed unlies

trip that thread

now what did they mean again?

 

If I had words I’d tell you

I don’t walk miles to let you know

you are near and so far

my most unimagined song.

 

I don’t climb but I see you

I don’t dig but I rest beneath

those salient words that you breathe

I’m drenched in unimagined air…

 

something (part one, revised)

Standard
Christian, personal, prose

the book with no names

Easter Tuesday 018.jpg

So for those of you who don’t know, I am married to a Lutheran pastor.

I could seriously write a book about what life has been like in the last 20+ years living this reality. The thing is, if I did, I would have to kill everyone first. Because changing names wouldn’t be enough.
I jest, of course!

But, these people are dear to my heart. My husband is the pastor of five churches and our churches are small. And of course, microcosms of greater realities. There are times I have enjoyed worshipping with big congregations. The fellowship can be incredible. However, for people with anxiety issues, being welcomed into a smaller community has been an extremely healing thing for them, and we have witnessed beautiful things that literally brings tears to my eyes.

One of the highlights for me was when a very reclusive gentleman, who has some serious anxiety issues for a number of reasons, finally joined our smallest congregation. To say that it terrifies him to join a large group of people, would be a grave understatement. So to see his ongoing healing from the love in that community, has been nothing short of amazing. Last year, he called our house to wish me a happy birthday on behalf of their little church. It is hard for me to put into words what that meant to me, because I know the agony he would have gone through before he made that call. (Please don’t tell him I wrote about him, he would die! 🙂 )

I truly feel blessed I am a part of all of this. And I will always be proud to be a part of these families. Warts and all.

(And thank you WordPress, for being another “family” I have come to love.)

 

Standard
Christian, Poetry

in honour of a birth

DSC_0756.JPG

Heaven takes a breath
then breathes out Love,
a Child wakens.
The world slowly changes colour
as the air filters a new Light.

Stilled by the cosmic embrace
of Humility
the world slowly changes depth
perception,
music oxygenating the space in between
the prostrating tears of angels
and those undone
trembling at the foot of that mysterious cradle
of vulnerability
Divine.

 

Standard