Poems

is like a game of catch— the easy back-and-forth of an unscored ball. No points counted.

A great work, prophethood. But now Elijah, sunk beneath that load, despaired, sought the wilderness.

Today, someone passed by, crying. It could have been you, or it could have been me, but it wasn't.

For far too long I played host to a problem That I thought was up to me to solve. I wrestled with it daily— Denouncing, entreating, resenting it.

When thinking of Church do we see landscape, building, and discrete mortal consciousnesses, which must be linked by material modes? Or do we see a spiritual structure? Everyone receptive to the Christ grows spiritually. And everyone who grows, even in small degree, participates in healing.

When foot falls short of spoken thought, do not, for charity, cry "Pharisee!" Thought, leading foot, finds star and then the slow foot comes where longings are. God shines on thought that foot may know the way to go.

When I awake I lie there, still, Until I have Declared His will. So when I rise To meet the day I'm more inclined To go His way.

Innkeeper, chide not yourself nor spend time in remorse because you did not recognize that holy family at your door. The manger, in line with God's plan, was a fitting place for the babe to be born— he who was to heal on rooftop, shoreline, and in humble home.

Look first, in peace, within the secret place— that lowly stillness of the heart that tells wordlessly of shepherd-listening grace— and greet the Most High. Baubles, bells, beribboned gifts or decorated trees— if you have none of these, are you deprived of Christmas joy and cheer? Then seek again its depth, all the year, every season, seek the hidden scent of buds—the undeveloped thoughts.

I Healing is undistracted oneness with God, Truth, Love, Soul; undistracted oneness with the Mind that knows us whole— serenely, perfectly, radiantly whole, every whit one with Soul. Healing is complete agreement with God's seeing creation being "very good.