Son Behind The Clouds

O Lord, You are my Light and Salvation!

Some days are sunny, bright,
Easy to love;
Some days are dark, cold,
Dreary to the spirit;
Some days are stormy and wild,
Disorienting, even fearsome;
But always, above the storm clouds,
The dreary fog, the depressing haze,
Shines the faithful sun,
Clear and bright, warm, unchanging.

You, my Lord, are that sun to me.
Always, unchanging, is Your Heart of Love and Kindness.
Never need I fear the clouds the world brings
For You, my Comforter, are still there.
These things, too, will pass, dissolve, move away,
But never You, even for a moment,
O Faithful One.

So I look past the storm clouds,
Knowing You are there.
I place my faith, my trust,
In You, O ever-present, unchanging Love,
And know that even when You are hard to see,
Even when You are hard to feel,
Your Sacred Heart ever pours out Your rays of Love
Even with the thorns, even with the Cross.
Your constant Love is there, still, always.
Your Love endures forever
Long after the clouds move away.



We Are Near

Slapped by the Betrayer’s kiss,
Abandoned by Your friends,
Your hands that blessed and healed
Were bound tightly behind Your back.
Thus they pushed and paraded You,
Shamefully, through the streets,
As a criminal, for their pleasure.

Your precious Sacred Heart, most pure,
Was thus exposed to insult and harm,
No protection afforded by bound hands.
How that Heart beat as they abused You,
Pushed and beat You,
A plaything for the arrogant,
Tortured by the prideful.
Your most Precious Heart, my Lord,
So unprotected, so shamed,
So precious, so pure,
So merciful Your Love poured forth still.

You, O Lord, whose very thoughts
Could have dissolved Your chains,
Surrendered to the hands of cold hearts,
Ached to free them from their chains
And embrace them in Your arms of Love.
You, O Precious One, who could have brought
Light to their darkness,
Freedom to their captivity,
And the Fire of Love to their icy hearts,
You surrendered to their worldly power
And broke open Your Heart of Love.

Beaten, betrayed,
Insulted, alone,
Your Sacred Heart open to abuse,
You laid tortured and cold
In a shameful cell
Awaiting the indignity of Your trial.
Who could protect Your Precious Heart?
Who could cushion Your Sacred Head
From the cold stone? Yet colder hearts.
Who could sweetly tend Your Wounds,
O King of our hearts,
Most Precious Lamb,
Unblemished, but by our shameful hands.

Let our hearts surround Your, dear Lord,
To offer You protection
And afford You consolation
As Your Sacred Heart, still abused
By cold and prideful hearts,
Is adored by our loving hearts,
Surrendered to You,
Bound by love,
Exposed as Yours, for Yours,
To the torturers hand.
Rest, dear Lord, cushioned in our love,
And know that we are near.


Every Precious Part

I fall to my knees
At the foot of all that is You.
My solitary soul, hungering,
Seeks that which gives it Life.
Like a child to its mother,
I cling to Your Cross
As it seeps deeply
Into my ravenous soul;
A soul that rushes for every morsel
Thrown even to the dogs
From the Master’s table.

Yet not crumbs
But the most tender
Lamb of Sacrifice
You offer to me,
Sweetened with the nectar
Of Your Love.

Come share all I am, You beg,
Mounting Your Cross in my soul,
Feeding my deepest passions for You
With the blood of Your Sacrifice,
Your Sacrifice of deepest, most tender Love.

Your breath moves in me,
Stirring my desire for You,
As You feed my soul
With Your every pain,
Every rejection,
Every humiliation,
Every passionate desire,
Forming my heart to Yours.

Hide me in Your Wounds,
I find myself begging.
Let me drink of Your Cup
You offer so deeply
Until I have tasted every drop;
Until every part of You
Has become every part of me
And I am saturated
With every precious drop,
Every tender, broken part of You.
As You become all
That is left of me.


The Wild Rose

The wild rose climbs
Over rocks, fences,
Anything in its path
In search of the sun,
Touching all perhaps
In its journey,
Yet its desire is for the sun
Forsaking all else
For its great desire.

For it is only in the Light of the sun,
Which this wild rose adores,
That the rose opens up
Its most tender blooms.

It is only in the Light of the sun
That this wild rose,
So passionate in its search,
So joyful in its finding,
Its opening,
Can bear the fruit
Of this journey
To the Light.