Poems

Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart . (Luke 2:19) Mary's Soul-sense magnified aloud the Lord, grasped the destiny of the child she bore.

Write for the periodicals? What can I say that has not already been said? So beautifully, too, that my heart has been touched with gratitude (faith renewed) healed with the thoughts of Mind shared from the steadfast work, the hearing of others. Should I write? First comes the reply Who am I? And then.

I have wept by my friend for an afternoon that feels like a week, lost in dark rain. Where's the love that fashioned these fabrics, these shirts and coats and robes? There's a calm confidence in this man's arrival, but can he really help? Can he recover the love, make a lifeless body breathe again? What's this strength I feel—this warmth— as he tenderly ushers us from Tabitha's room? Right in the clamor of wailing a kind of silence stirs— a gust of fresh hope, some quiet power glowing through the dusk.

Short in stature but long on pluck, Zacchaeus Scurried on ahead and scampered up a sycamore To see the Master. Reading this I asked, "Am I as eagerly Seeking a better view of Christ?" This trumpeted an angel call for action, so with Singleness of purpose prayerfully renewed, I cast aside the stumbling block of apathy And pruned away those unsubstantial creepers— Self-righteousness and false attraction.

Am I an unwilling raindrop All comfy in my cloud, While parched earth waits And growth abates And buddings call aloud, For light and love And rain to help Unfolding leaf and flower, Refreshing growth and mankind too With food for growing power? No! I'm a willing raindrop No longer tied to bed For that last tempting hour of sleep. I'll help my world be fed With light and love And substance fresh Wherever thought is led.

How they must have loved their friend to lift him to a housetop. All other means to get him through the crowds had failed.

Sometimes the pace of life can seem to swirl us headlong into a whirlpool of conflicting feelings. The clangor, stress, confusion, that beset us may relentlessly suggest that we are separated from the unfailing source of peace.

Be still and know— know what? Know God as Love. The fire and the glory shone on those who knew Love is forever.

Take off your shoes! Release the eager feet that long to stand on holy ground. Behold, it's here! The bush beside your path burns bright with revelation, is not consumed.

Now, it is closer to morning than midnight. Now, healing comes in the quiet of dawn.