knock

knock

Audacity runs thick here, and what’s more,
We’re familiar with waking Him up for
This, that, and the other. So be
Bold in asking, brothers; go free
Bravely, sisters, approach the door.

Go lack common courtesy at your core,
When your state of soul is weary and sore.
When only one thing will heal me,
I am shameless.

Propriety isn’t piety, nor
Does it matter to the child or the poor.
Faith is annoying (it makes me hungry),
Like our families, who insist that we
Owe them something. Knock. By such blood and war
You are shameless.

“Then Jesus said to them, “Suppose you have a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I have no food to offer him.’ And suppose the one inside answers, ‘Don’t bother me. The door is already locked, and my children and I are in bed. I can’t get up and give you anything.’ I tell you, even though he will not get up and give you the bread because of friendship, yet because of your shameless audacity he will surely get up and give you as much as you need.” Luke 11:5‭-‬8 NIV

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
difficult, divine
better
torrents of my making
mine to forgive
now does the earth
when blood

when blood

blood

When blood seeps to streets,
Experts illustrate sermons
And tweet conclusions.
Distance gives perspective on
Which of us has any worth.

When blood flows from wounds,
Those who have bled apply ice
(They know how it felt).
Proximity is queasy,
But neighbors hose the pavement.

When blood drips from lips,
The broken mix oil and wine,
The perplexed pass by.
You’re lost if you need to ask
Who is worthy of mercy.

“But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’ “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” Luke 10:25‭-‬37

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
difficult, divine
better
torrents of my making
mine to forgive
now does the earth

now does the earth

IMG_8665-2

Now does the earth in bloom, as crows would fly
(The weeds, as rich with thorns as wheat with grain
Beneath), look simply green from way up high?
And indiscriminate, receive the rain?

And does the field snatch scattered shadows found
By cloudy flocks, or seeping from below?
And does the sun, so far, that warms the ground
Now wither or encourage plants to grow?

Does seed that falls stay stiff beneath the clod,
And seeing, does not see, nor hearing, hear?
Or will it wake and lift its eyes to God
And break and rise to flower, and draw near?

Each seed is more than seed, when Life is nigh,
Who passing, plants in each a thirst for sky.

“A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path; it was trampled on, and the birds ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, and when it came up, the plants withered because they had no moisture. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up with it and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up and yielded a crop, a hundred times more than was sown.” When he said this, he called out, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.” His disciples asked him what this parable meant. He said, “The knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of God has been given to you, but to others I speak in parables, so that, “‘though seeing, they may not see; though hearing, they may not understand.’ “This is the meaning of the parable: The seed is the word of God.” Luke 8:5‭-‬11

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke. Photo by Linnea Wheeler.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
difficult, divine
better
torrents of my making
mine to forgive

mine to forgive

bleedinghearts

I carve out “home” in the barren branch,
For it is Mine to forgive.

Sin little owe little love little grow little
Open and learn how to give.

When weeping alone is fragrance, bloom.
Only the falling can live.

Pour it out, loved one, don’t filter your pain,
It is Mine, I AM the Sieve.

Many and great will shatter the Truth,
For She is dying to live.

Sin bigger owe bigger love bigger grow bigger
You will have little to give.

Peace kissed me in my enemy’s home,
Both are still Mine to forgive.

Come unto me, you weepers and bearers,
You are Mine.

Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said. “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.” “You have judged correctly,” Jesus said. Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.” Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” The other guests began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
Luke 7:40‭-‬50 NIV

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke. Photo by Linnea Wheeler.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
difficult, divine
better
torrents of my making

torrents of my making

wavelighthouse

I talk and I talk, and I write and I write.
I lug a megaphone around with me to amplify my tiny ideas of light,
What it means to be salt, what it means to be right, and mostly: what I mean.
You know what I mean?
You’d think, for all my talk, fear couldn’t chill my blood.
But I can’t feel anything holding me fast below this mud.

Lord, can you hear me?
Do you see your wild-clinging child, groping for a rope, for hope?
I’ve always wondered: does hope sink or float?
Is it anchor or boat?
Because my house won’t hold back these waves,
And half the time I’m only correcting how I behave
And my will within and walls without cave unto the mud.
And sometimes I believe that I’m adrift upon this flood.

But when I tear my heart away from torrents of my making,
I can only see Him Who holds me fast.
He’s always been there, and He isn’t any further than He was before.
It seems that even when I drift I end up tethered to the shore.
Your Word says to believe, “I am Foundation in the flood.”
And my anchor isn’t action, but Your blood.

“Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say? As for everyone who comes to me and hears my words and puts them into practice, I will show you what they are like. They are like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built. But the one who hears my words and does not put them into practice is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. The moment the torrent struck that house, it collapsed and its destruction was complete.”
Luke 6:46-49

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
difficult, divine
better