For my Daughter
Dear little Buttercup, why are you so blue?
sometimes it hurts so much.. the dull, cracking loneliness...
the cold is here too..
but look, Beloved! at where you are!
You are alone with God.
This is the closest a soul can get
to meeting her adoring maker.
Let your heart sing praises
when those old bones cry,
And may the cold propel you
steadfast towards the light.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
To Be Known Deeply,To Be Loved Thoroughly; This is the Glory of Two Hearts Made Whole
Before I found you,
I knew of a place,
Unseen but wholly known.
Made bright and sweet
by two hearts finally made whole
by the healing balms, born of delight,
calling the wretched home.
We stand together
our bodies marred with wounds
from when we stood alone.
Our hands, though bloodied
Were strong and eager
to build our sanctuary;
to make real in this world
what had only been known
to a soul thirsting for refuge.
When I found you I recognized
in the deepest and holiest part of me,
this rapture had satiated me
Now, finally- it was time to go home
Glory to the goodness
that birthed this simple truth:
I was made to find-
and specifically created;
to Love you.
I knew of a place,
Unseen but wholly known.
Made bright and sweet
by two hearts finally made whole
by the healing balms, born of delight,
calling the wretched home.
We stand together
our bodies marred with wounds
from when we stood alone.
Our hands, though bloodied
Were strong and eager
to build our sanctuary;
to make real in this world
what had only been known
to a soul thirsting for refuge.
When I found you I recognized
in the deepest and holiest part of me,
this rapture had satiated me
Now, finally- it was time to go home
Glory to the goodness
that birthed this simple truth:
I was made to find-
and specifically created;
to Love you.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
To the Living
Beauty in passionate, ravishing truth.
TO THE LIVING
Poem by May Sarton
IV
The need to kill what is unknown and strange
Whether it be a poem or an ancient race,
The fear of thought, fear of experience
That might demand some radical heart-change--
These are the mountains that hem a narrow place
Out of the generous plains of our inheritance:
Speak to the children as a whole,
Whole as the heart that can include it all,
And the fear of thought as the first sin;
Tell them the revolution is within.
Open the mind and the whole earth and sky
Are freed from fear to be explored and known.
Nothing so strange it is does not hold delight
Once it is seen with the clear and naked eye.
The thinking man will never be alone
TO THE LIVING
Poem by May Sarton
IV
The need to kill what is unknown and strange
Whether it be a poem or an ancient race,
The fear of thought, fear of experience
That might demand some radical heart-change--
These are the mountains that hem a narrow place
Out of the generous plains of our inheritance:
Speak to the children as a whole,
Whole as the heart that can include it all,
And the fear of thought as the first sin;
Tell them the revolution is within.
Open the mind and the whole earth and sky
Are freed from fear to be explored and known.
Nothing so strange it is does not hold delight
Once it is seen with the clear and naked eye.
The thinking man will never be alone
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