Let Me

Let me be the Star that guides.
Let me be the Voice crying in the wilderness.
Let me be the Brother that leads a brother.
Let me be the Mother bidding
“Do whatever He tells you.”

Let me be tears upon Your feet,
Let me be anointing oil
Let me be a cloak that hides your nakedness.
Let me be the prayer of the Blind Bartimaeus:
“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”

Let me pray with You in the garden
Let me draw a spiritual sword by Your Side.
Let me help you carry Your Cross.
Let me weep with You for the Fallen and the Lost,
Lamenting, “.. you would not be gathered.”

Let me feel with Mother Mary
Let me cry out like the Magdalen.
Let me, like the Centurion, recognize You in Your Dying.
Let me sit beside the Angel at Your Tomb.
“He has risen, He is not here”

 

By Joann Nelander

Haunting Silence

Time to name the monster
Who stirs at night.
Who lives within
To hide our sin.

Time to make room,
In memory’s caverns
Rather than banish
What simply won’t vanish.

You had a choice once
That gave birth to phantoms
Making you live your choice
Silencing not its voice.

The monster lives and grows
Curled and caved in your heart
When the Light goes out
It walks about.

Its countenance a disfigurement,
Frightful yet your own.
Its dwelling through the years
Fraught with reticence and tears.

Has it no right
No place of rest?
When the day is done,
No place in the sun.

Most monsters are but part
Of our fallen selves
Standing in the way
Of each new day.

The way out
Is also within.
Give the chimera a name.
Acknowledge its claim.

Give the silence life
For the living,
For what you kill,
Haunts you still.

Time to embrace
And wrap the past in Mercy.
Give it a womb,
Instead of a tomb.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Haunting Silence

Time to name the monster
Who stirs at night.
Who lives within
To hide our sin.

Time to make room,
In memory’s caverns,
Rather than banish,
What simply won’t vanish.

You had a choice once,
That gave birth to phantoms,
Making you live your choice,
Silencing not its voice.

The monster lives and grows,
Curled and caved in your heart.
When the Light goes out,
It walks about.

Its countenance a disfigurement,
Frightful yet your own.
Its dwelling through the years,
Fraught with reticence and tears.

Has it no right?
No place of rest?
When the day is done,
No place in the sun.

Most monsters are but part
Of our fallen selves,
Standing in the way
Of each new day.

The way out
Is also within.
Give the chimera a name.
Acknowledge its claim.

Give the silence life,
Life for the living,
For what you kill,
Haunts you still.

Time to embrace,
And wrap the past in Mercy.
Give it a womb,
Instead of a tomb.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved