Perhaps last night’s journaling sensed what would come to life at 2am as I watched the night sky from the River House deck.
A shooting, falling star is like “a bright, fragile ‘I am'” … “As our metal eyes wake / to absolute night, / where whispers fly / from the beginning of time, / we cup our ears to the heavens.” ~ We Are Listening by Diane Ackerman
#poetry #listen #journalingforthesoul #vondadreesart
“Break down in me the barricades of death / And tear the veil in two with your last breath.” ~from Malcolm Guite’s poem, Cleansing the Temple, https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2017/04/11/holy-week-tuesday-cleansing-the-temple-4/
I am fascinated by the concept of the veil, that thing that separates, being torn and revealing… I don’t know… the Christ mystery (?) that holds all things together in a different (unimaginable?) way.
And further, somehow Malcolm’s words “with your last breath” cause me to wonder about breath pointing us toward the practice of tearing the veil ~ not only “last” as in “final”… also last as in previous, the breath that just happened without any fanfare.
“Jesus comes near and he beholds the city / And looks on us with tears in his eyes, / And wells of mercy, streams of love and pity / Flow from the fountain from whence all things arise.” ~an excerpt from Jesus Weeps by Malcolm Guite
“Touch is the miracle.” ~Walt Whitman
“… And the light shone in the darkness and / Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled / About the centre of the silent Word…” T.S. Eliot goes on to ask, “Where shall the Word be found, where shall the Word resound? Not here, there is not enough silence.”
Sometimes the simplest lines catch my breath, a sure sign they belong in my journaling.
A barn shall harbor heaven.
~a line from Richard Wilbur’s A Christmas Hymn
A stable lamp is lighted
Whose glow shall wake the sky
The stars shall bend their voices
And every stone shall cry
~a stanza from Richard Wilbur’s A Christmas Hymn
Just last week I created some images for a church’s worship bulletins. They’re using the narrative lectionary and their theme this Advent is “the [un]welcome truth.”
a bright start has blazed forth
and no one has seen it
and no one has wakened
from Madeleine L’Engle’s poem “Advent, 1971”
Recently I’ve been reading and listening to the poetry of Malcolm Guite… ahh, what a gift.
Here’s an image using a couple of his lines from “Hilda of Whitby.” If you’d like access to the whole poem, here you go… https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2016/11/17/hilda-and-caedmon-2/.
There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen. ~Rumi