My many sins
Have gone up in flames,
And all that is left,
You deem holy.
©2012 Joann Nelander
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Heavenly Mother,
It is told,
You allowed a leper babe,
To be washed in your Baby’s bath,
And, immediately, the infant was healed,
His skin, supple and pink,
By an act of God,
A miraculous gift.
Plunge those forgotten in life,
Into that water of refreshment,
In which, to remove the dust of the world,
You bathed your Babe.
It is God, Who hears,
The cry of the poor.
God, Who, is not far off.
He sent His Christ,
To enter that sea,
The Jordan of Man’s Sin.
One day, it’s waters
Would wash the multitudes,
And it’s streams
Flow over the Ages.
God, indeed, hears
The cry of the poor,
As He heard the wail
Of the leper babe.
“This is my beloved Son.”,
He announces in loving unity,
As an open invitation for us to enter in,
And lay our claim in holy hope.
Mother, do for the disabled,
What they cannot
Do for themselves.
Meet us in our leprosy,
And, bathing us, say
With the Father,
“This is my son,
In whom I am well pleased.”
© 2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Forsaking the Land of Shadows, yet again,
And prostrate before You,
I enter with my candle,
Wick, barely alive,
Smoldering,
Awaiting the gentle breeze,
That will kindle my flame
To blaze forth, anew.
Praise rises in my soul,
As a lifetime of thanks given,
Recall to memory
The reason for my trust.
Can Faith be called blind,
When a thousand thousand yesterdays
Form the foundation of our friendship?
Now, I look upon You,
Upon the Altar of Adoration.
Beauty captures my attention.
The monstrance, a delight to my eye,
All aglow,
As it catches the early rays of morning.
Golden shafts stream from its center,
Whispering “Glory.”
The pedestal,
Ornate with pomegranates, grapes and lilies,
Celebrate the gift of Your Creation.
Yet, You, in Your splendid Humility,
Reside in true beauty, Unadorned, and at rest,
Your work accomplished,
Awaiting only my disfigurement.
What will You with me?
Transfigure in longed for alchemy of Spirit.
By heartfelt confession and remorse,
At Your Word,
Spoken in Persona Christi,
I wash my robes clean
In the Blood of the Lamb.
You do not horde Your beauty,
But send it forth,
To renew all creation,
And, forgetting not the least,
Remember me.
Copyright 2012 Joann Nelander
Darkness had come upon the land,
A darkness so thick,
It could be felt.
You spoke and said to me,
I will awake the dawn.
Rising early, I raised my arms to heaven
And Your sun entered my soul.
A thousand candles,
Burn on the altar of my heart.
Piercing the darkness,
Are Your eyes of Love.
Cascading streams of Light,
Illuminating that cavern,
That was Sin.
Lord, help me
Return Your gaze.
I behold You, darkly,
New to the blinding Light.
Dancing Miracle of Sun
Accustom my open eyes to Your Spirit
To receive the sun and moonbeams
As You eclipse the Night.
© 2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
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