A desert You prepare for me.
In solitude You allure me.
An encounter awaits me,
Your heart waiting for mine.
A thousand betrayals,
Hasn’t dimmed Your vision
For Love’s elect.
©2012 Joann Nelander
A desert You prepare for me.
In solitude You allure me.
An encounter awaits me,
Your heart waiting for mine.
A thousand betrayals,
Hasn’t dimmed Your vision
For Love’s elect.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Be, O Lord, the Sun in me.
Despite, my clouds,
Masking Your Beauty,
Be seen as light invisible,
Going forth, in the Spirit,
To the world,
A world in need of Revelation.
Pierce the veil of my travail.
Linger long to suffer my malaise,
My unsettled wine.
By grace, bless me,
As you bless those blind
To Your Presence in me.
Sacrament and penance,
My claim upon Your Heart.
Light, undiminished,
Under my bushel,
Burning bright within my core,
Make of me a lampstand,
In Your Father’s House.
Be, O, Lord, The Sun in Me,
for a world
In need of illumination.
It seems…
I am always talking to You,
That I am always with You,
And have no doubt
You are with me,
Listening and silent.
I am an endless monologue.
You, hovering Spirit,
Wordlessly eloquent
Abide.
You are Presence and Truth,
Listening and silent,
Thunderously silent,
Save for the stirring of my heart,
And the sometime rush of thought,
Coming, as it were,
From the bowels of my being
With frightening conviction,
And challenging my reticence
To speak aloud
The thoughts of solitude.
Reluctant always
To go about,
And leave the cloister of my heart,
Where in Your chambers I find,
And hold dear,
Private audience with the King,
The world without is a noisy charade,
And woos the pride of me take center stage.
Where suddenly I realize
I have been talking much, too much,
To my regret.
I, naggingly, suspect
I have diminished
What was my treasure
And ceased to learn.
Cacophany of me,
I cease to learn,
And simply rearrange,
That with which I am familiar.
Where do prophet, poet and a would be recluse
Find voice if not in You,
Rejecting even audience
To find You in my silence,
Your silence?
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

In silence I wait, silent.
Thanksgiving and praise have created the dome about me,
As angels carry their worshipful sound
And sing my song before the Throne of God.
I am implicitly carried with their melody,
Hidden in the words playing before my God.
The Gates open to admit my presence.
I enter, bowing low,
And I am lifted on high.
Kissing the cheek of my Savior,
I wrap my arms about His Neck,
As He on earth,
Loving embraced His virginal Mother
With an all holy and forever Love.
I rest in Your Sabbath Rest,
Gathering strength for the storm,
That Your Triumph may rain down blessing,
To make all days Your Day.
Here in silence, You whisper.
And, yet, is it not, the glorious and triumphal Shout?
Reign, my Savior and King, in your little ones
Longing for You and the Eternal Rest.
Copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
O Lord, I have no doubt
Of Faith’s fulfillment.
I no longer ask “when,”
For passing days,
But flavor and add splendor,
To my Sabbath Rest,
My dream of Love unending.
If weary of this wasteland
Spring returns with leaf and bud.
Birds’ refrain and cricket chirp
Pull back the curtain,
Time and Sin descended,
To light on promise
Dawning of New Day.
Copyright 2011 Joann Nelander
Who is the poorest of the Poor?
Is it not the one deprived of womb?
Is it not the one gone unnamed?
Given a frame
But denied rightful claim,
Stripped bear of place,
No space to grow,
Deprived of a proper birth?
Is it not the one evicted,
Before drawing it’s first breath,
Whose beating heart is silenced,
With the sanction of the Court!?
With privacy,
Lest the whole world hear it’s cry?
Though a mother forget her child,
The Father of all fathers
Will not, no never, forget.
He has a place,
And a name,
For all the poor,
For the poorest
Of the poor,
Called “Beloved”
And “Poor No More”.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
“Fiat.”
To Mary’s “Fiat,”
I say, “Amen. Amen. Amen. “
“Fiat”, my gift to You, my King.
I give You, here in my heart, Mary’s “Fiat”,
That so inflamed the heart of Your Father,
That He gave her His Kingdom, enfleshing You, His Son.
The instant Mary formed her ascent in her heart and mind,
And her lips forms the word “Fiat”,
You, my God, began Your Human life in the womb of the Virgin.
O Mary, more than a chalice,
For of your seed sprang God,
Fully human, Fully Divine ,
Of you,
Eucharist was conceived
In Immaculate Splendor.
Thanksgiving began in the heaven of your Soul
And took flesh from the heaven of Your being.
Amen. Amen. Amen.
Father, my gift to You
This morning,
Mary’s “Fiat”
May it ring out
From this lowly Earth
That heaven come down
And live among Men.
Rain down Truth and Beauty, born of a Virgin,
His Body,
Forever bearing her donation.
Mystery, Divine,
Remember Your Love, throughout Time.
©2011 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
You are here.
My soul drinks
Of Your Presence.
Here is sweetness pervading,
Time with no measure,
Eternity kissing the moment,
Stillness, though fleeting.
Your touch stirs the life of me.
I want to dance,
Charged with new vigor.
I should simply gaze on You
But the power of life
Is hard to resist,
And unless You take me captive,
I’m tempted to fly.
I am the beggar,
Who finding his pockets full,
Hurries off to spend his treasure.
Teach me Lord to bask
In the sunshine of Your smile.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
Here You are beside me.
Here You are within me.
Here You share Your Being as Bread for my living.
Here I am believing.
Here I am becoming.
Here I receive Your Spirit as Life for my soul.
Here we dwell together.
Here we dwell in loving.
Here we give, completely,
Ourselves, One to the other, one to the Other
©2015 Joann Nelander
In the midst of joy,
I bear many sorrows.
For the perfection
Of the Trinity’s All Holy
Work of Love,
I place my longing,
My yearning,
Next to your perfect sorrow.
May my cries
Pierce your Immaculate Heart,
O Holy Mother,
As you behold your Son,
In His Dying.
What good can come of sorrow?
You, Queen Mother,
Who sit enthroned
Beside His throne,
Sharing the sweetness
Of Love’s fulfillment,
Know,
And count it all joy.
The One Son,
The One Christ,
Bears Mankind,
As He bore the Cross.
Savor the shed tears
And offer them,
As you did your own.
I await the morning,
The bright dawning
Of Love’s true laughter.
©2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved