Wounded Love

Thomas wanted reality.
Thomas wanted answers.
Thomas wanted undeniable proof.

He trusted his mind.
He trusted his senses.
He walked by sight,
But feared to trust
The witnesses of Resurrection.

A God, with wounds of Love, understood.
A God, marked by our disbelief,
Stood before him,
In plain sight.

Thomas finger my wounds.
Feel the warmth of human flesh.
Feel the throbbing of My Heart,
Bounding against
Your hand in My Side.

Thomas, you sought only
The trappings of reality.
Am I real now,
Real enough for you,
My friend?

Standing, face to face,
Before I Am,
Bought to his knees
By living, breathing, proof,
He stands in our place.

Humbled by faith’s awakening,
Before the True Witness,
Senses satisfied,
Content, now, and forever,
He’ll follow blindly,
Unto death,
Into eternity.

“My Lord and my God.”

Copyright Joann Nelander 2012
All rights reserved

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The Fisher and His Net

You are inconvenient Truth.
I want to believe myself alive.
I tout myself spiritual.
You are the spoiler
In the midst
Of my presumptions.

I run with the world
And You fish for me.
Cast your net after me.
I duck the toss,
Scamper out of reach.

Though its weave
Be that of Love,
It’s warp be reason,
Faith the weft
That elevates,
I fear your net as chains.

If I only knew
Who it is
Who is constantly
Trolling the Deep
To save me.

If I could see
That I am blinded
In the chaos.
Trapped in ancient lies,
Ensnared in deception’s trenches.

Tides and currents,
Direct my movement.
I am not free.

I flow
Caught in the embrace
Of the masses,
Pitiful humanity,
Chained by tumultuous sensation ,
And arrogant bravado,
Regardless of Truth’s freedom.

Relentless Pursuer,
Plot the routes of my escape
To wait for me
In the shallows
And guide me.
Then encircled
By Your arms,
Lift me beyond myself.

Deliver me, O, Fisher
From the waters
In which I drown.

Draw me up
To Yourself
Separating the flotsam,
And jetsam,
Counting me Your own.

© 2012 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

A Man Clothed in Sin

A man clothed in sin
Walked the long aisle
To stand before the Crucifix.

Long years,
No tears,
He came to say,
"You died for me,
And I don’t give a damn!"

The hardened before the Hallowed,
The clock running down,
Time spent and unreflected,
Deeds done and unrepentant.

Challenged to say the words,
He began,
"You died for me,
And I don’t give…"

Undaunted, he repeated,
"You died for me
And I don’t….."
Gaze focused
On that bloodied Corpse,
Resolute, again, he began,
"You died for me…"
…….
"You died for me…"
"You died for me!"

Tears, tears,
Rivers of tears,
Years unspent,
And now in flood.

Miracles at the Red Sea,
Yet, none greater
Than the Passover,
One innocent Lamb,
Slain, and yet standing,
Lifted up,
Drawing thee.

© 2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Holy Fetus

O, Holy Fetus,
One cell, two cells,
Cell upon cell,
You took shape,
Within the Virgin’s womb.

O Holy Child,
Born to die,
You were born in Bethlehem
City of Promise,
But conceived in Nazareth,
Crossroad of sinners,
Now graced
By the Holy.

Cell upon cell,
Grace upon grace,
The Virgin’s
“Fiat”
Alleluia!

Copyright Joann Nelander 2012

All rights reserved

The Visit

In flight
Into Egypt
Hungry,
Hurried,
Yet at peace.

You pass my way.
Because you are holy
We are worlds apart.
Yet you touch me
By your plight.

You must eat.
You must drink.
Rest a moment
Under my tent.

Holy visitors,
Let me wash your feet.
Your smiles
Enter my heart
As a symphony

Stay the night.
Bring the star
From heaven
To light my adobe.

Dwell forever
Here in Spirit
Though you must hurry
On your way.

Journey on,
O, Protector, O Mother, O Child.
With me,
In your hearts,

Now, I wait
For you forever.
I tucked a little rattle
Under His blanket.
Perhaps, He’ll hear me
In the sounds,
A remembrance,
Like a prayer,
In the rattling of beads.

By Joann Nelander

Planetary Dreamscape

Grazing Buffalo

Image

Evening Paradise

Evening Paradise

Image

Be the Sun in Me

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,
To a world in need of illumination.

Copyright Joann Nelander 2012
All rights reserved

Mother Love

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