eight::seventeen

The sweetest fruit is the provision of God,
that taste for which we are so thankful,
that vegetable fleshed in mystery.

At best, we can participate in God's fruition,
humbling ourselves to the seasons
and the soil and seedlings,
to the Creator of life's cycles,
denying not the Earth her abundance,
nor her apparent hesitation.

Respond well to the Word,
whether to bear flesh of your flesh
or to listen to the subtle whispers of the Spirit,
a birth for all and not many,
though the few do not hold their heads high.

And it all comes together in the mercy of God,
in the now and not yet,
the inward look beyond the horizon.

(Joshua 24:1-13, Psalm 136, Matthew 19:3-12)

eight::sixteen

There is a land that you were made for,
a people even with whom you're inclined to reside,
a community different than falsified race
invented to aid the race for conquest.

You will be more than inviting,
but accepting,
and more than accepting,
but thankful,
embracing the stranger,
forgiving the debtor,
praising God for all people, all gifts.

Touch the beauty of the presence of another,
a precious infusion of love enfleshed.

Forget not the times the streams
seemed to slow for your passing,
the Creator leading you on the way.

Forget not the time of great relief,
release from the bondage of guilt
built on misplaced trust.

You will enter upon the landscape,
be it a desert in your bones
or a high mountain in your heart,
a resting place,
a giving place,
a place entrusted to your care,
your sensitivity.

(Joshua 3:7-11, 13-17, Psalm 114, Matthew 18:21-19:1)

Beautiful Woman

Beautiful woman,
Mary,
and the ones before you
and after you,
givers of life,
wise women.

No wonder in his hallucination
John on Patmos
saw a dragon after you.
But the dragon has not scales
but the appearance of scared men.
Not the dragon
found on pages celebrating
inhuman masculinity,
but the insane brotherhood
on quest for power.

But you reflect the earth,
and the heavens,
life giving,
blessed for all generations,
for through you are generations.
Teach me to love,
to open up,
to receive the promise.
Our God has prepared
a place for you
in the desert.
May I come for a visit
to be reborn?

(Revelation 11:19, 12:1-6, 10, Psalm 45, 1 Corinthians 1 20-27, Luke 1:39-56-- Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary)

eight::fourteen

The command, "Destroy,"
percolates in minds
when only air and acid
stir in a people's belly.
And suddenly the God
carries out mass murder
to explain the raping
of the creation,
humans, honey, milk, wheat,
olives, trees, chickens, cows,
by a people immature,
a crowd prone to whining.
Masses forget the Garden
planted by the hands of God,
and they forget
the command to commune
to be made one again,
to be found once again,
to recline without end
under the luscious green branches
of the trees
some thousands of feet
below an old Mesopotamian sea.
And then one remembers
and reminds,
telling friends and enemies,
"Become children, again."
For this people forgot the soil
from which it was raised,
to which it will return,
and assumes it has always been
in the afternoon of its life,
denying the morning,
blinding its eyes to the night,
working, working, working
with no end in sight.
If only a simple sheep
would find itself found
brought back into the cycle,
back into the wide creation.

(Deuteronomy 31:1-8, Deuteronomy 32:3-4, 7-9, 12, Matthew 18:1-5, 19, 12-14)

eight::thirteen

Nothing, not a thing.
I can't keep anything to myself.
But I still take.
We all take, we all think we have.

Oh, but to consider the one without,
the stranger, the widow, the orphan,
the ones without our law and order,
our silly daily way of life,
our heaps of shit
corralled between walls and under roofs
how could we ever have the time.
Time we can't hold,
and others simply must be good
for us at the right time
else they are nothing,
or only a thing,
an object, a tool,
or merely useless,
and what use is there for useless things?

And why should I bother devoting lines
to nothing that can't do anything for me?

But, see, I am dying
and the new life I'm rising towards
melts into a life that existed before me,
the me that doesn't quite exist
in a way we can comprehend,
for it is a we that only makes sense with us,
and not us and them,
for us is them,
thought we may be a bit different, too.

And this is OK.

This is the way.

This is the world of nothing, no thing,
where all is some of one,
though we don't count or govern.

Oh, God, I can't quite breathe well now
knowing there is better air to be breathed.

(Deuteronomy 10:12-22, Psalm 147, Matthew 17:22-27)

eight::twelve

All the things I hold onto have a hold on me,
but not my hand or arm,
for most days I don't touch them,
most days I don't see them,
and if you asked me what they were
I couldn't tell.
My most beloved possession is worry.
It is an empty pit I keep digging
and nothing can fill its cavernous descent.
Yet, I can put down the shovel
and do different work,
a work of consciousness.
Otherwise that pit of worry is merely a grave
and I'll die without it as it is,
so why bother with a pit I can't fill on my own?

(Wisdom 18:6-9, Psalm 33, Hebrews 12:1-2, 8-19, Luke 12:32-48)

Virginity (?)

I'm going to need something
to keep me going strong, to continuously
remember my God, my love and fortitude.
Many throughout time have given
themselves over to no one else but that One,
and I've thought of that way. To trust Virginity,
a strange sign in others' eyes, hell, even mine;
I see how they wander. Yet, why should I doubt
in my heart of hearts that this is what
has been approaching? Hear! The Lord is One:
Love with all heart, soul, strength, and mind.
Damn! My wandering eyes, will you find
that kind rock to rest my spirit upon?
May I embrace with whom and how I am to be.

(Deuteronomy 6:4-13, Psalm 18, Matthew 17 14-20 - Memorial of St. Clare)

eight::ten

Life cannot be without death,
death leading to life,
life leading to death,
something of a conversation.
Both are gifts
blending into one another.
There is no reason to deny breath
nor defy,
for one must breathe to live,
and even to give one's life,
that last breath,
one must live with death in mind.
And then in death
God grants life unbound.
Live life unto death
and life unto life.

(2 Corinthians 9:6-10, Psalm 112, John 12:24-25)