Eyes

How often I beseech “All the angels and saints”,
Yet, fail to realize
The multitude of the holy,
Whom I call to my side.

They do come.
They come ready to aid,
To do battle,
To protect,
And do bless.

God give me eyes,
That I may see,
For, indeed,
I am, too often, blind.

There are Wise infrared eyes,
Spying the sky.
We see our universe at its birth.
For eons,
We knew of no such birth.

Blindness of a kind
Can kill.
A child in the womb,
Heart beating for the cameras,
Still fails
To make a Presence known.

How blind the eyes
That refuse to see.

Father of all that is,
Give me eyes of the heart,
That I may
Make a start.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

7As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.8

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IF AND WHEN

My dearest Heart,
If I but had pure vision
Of Your Holiness,
My soul would take wing,
To break the hold
And travesty accursed,
Which chains me here,
Forever, casting off,
The gravity of Sin.

Hold, before my eyes,
The Christ upon the Cross,
That Longinus beheld,
That I, too, might soar to Your Side,
And enter there that Wound,
Which You love best,
That holy invitation,
That bids me "enter here".

No accident of fate,
That sword that pierced Your Heart
But providential lance of Holy Love,
That freed, fortuitous,
The wellspring of Salvation.

The sight of Love dying,
And undying,
Crosses the divide of Heaven and Hell,
To bathe with healing,
My eyes, as Raphael did Tobit.
And causes me to say with blind Bartimaeus,
In compassionate encounter,
"Lord, that I might see."

Love bathes me, as Mother,
At the first sign of my distress,
Before my disbelief of Mercy
Could raise objection
To Your eternal Kindness.

In the sunrise of the First Morn
Of New Day,
I see You, my sweetest Heart,
Resplendent, yet still pierced.

O, my Resurrected Lord,
Promise of my victory,
I adore with Seraphic praise,
And taking wing,
I rise with Thee.

Mysterious Will of God

From Your Cross
You looked upon Man
Your eyes were blinded
By Your Own Blood.
You could not even wipe
That Blood away,
For bound to a Cross,
Your Hands were held fast
To the mysterious Will
Of Your Father.

In Your Bloody Blindness,
You felt the anguish of rejection,
The rejection of Your People,
The rejection of the kings of the Earth,
The rejection of the once adoring crowds,
The rejection of cowardly friends,
Rejection of High Priests of Covenant Old,
And the rejection of disciples,
Destined to proclaim the New,
Alone,
Save for the Mother,
The Beloved Disciple
At her side,
And the repentant Magdalene,
Who knew both Sin
And deliverance at Your Hand.

From Your Cross
Look upon me.
See with Your heart
To forgive my Sin.
Draw me by way
Of the Blood and Water
Flowing from Your Pierced Side.
Wash away my Sin
In that Holy Tide,
That the Mysterious Will
Of Your Father
Give life to yet another son.
Thy will be done.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

If and When

My dearest Heart,
If I but had pure vision
Of Your Holiness,
My soul would take wing,
To break the hold
And travesty accursed,
Which chains me here,
Forever, casting off,
The gravity of Sin.

Hold, before my eyes,
The Christ upon the Cross,
That Longinus beheld,
That I, too, might soar to Your Side,
And enter there that Wound,
Which You love best,
That holy invitation,
That bids me “enter here”.

No accident of fate,
That sword that pierced Your Heart
But providential lance of Holy Love,
That freed, fortuitous,
The wellspring of Salvation.

The sight of Love dying,
And undying,
Crosses the divide of Heaven and Hell,
To bathe with healing,
My eyes, as Raphael did Tobit.
And causes me to say with blind Bartimaeus,
In compassionate encounter,
“Lord, that I might see.”

Love bathes me, as Mother,
At the first sign of my distress,
Before my disbelief of Mercy
Could raise objection
To Your eternal Kindness.

In the sunrise of the First Morn
Of New Day,
I see You, my sweetest Heart,
Resplendent, yet still pierced.

O, my Resurrected Lord,
Promise of my victory,
I adore with Seraphic praise,
And taking wing,
I rise with Thee.

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