Winter Fields

Like the field turned over
And left with nothing
In the long, cold winter,
So my soul lies in wait,
Barren, with only dim light
Like an eclipse of the Son
Shielding You from my eyes.

I wait for Your warmth and Light
Through the cold darkness.
My earth that sprang forth with life
Has been turned over
And lies barren.

But in this time of rest
The seeds await
Buried deep in the darkness
Awaiting the Light
To set them free
And stir in them new life.



Rising From Ashes

Most tender Heart of my God,
Whose gentle yet passionate Heartbeat
Moves the flow of my soul,
You have taken my heart
And You are not letting go.

You have moved me to such depths
Of anguish and pain
With Your torturous, passionate Cross,
With every humiliation and abuse
You have suffered then and now
That I, like the dead corpse
At the foot of the Cross,
Could take no more.

My soul is so moved by Your Sacrifice of all
To such a disturbing extreme,
Yet Your Heart flows with Love still,
Without cold drafts or hidden callouses,
That I awoke from that depth of agony
To a new life.

Morning came
In a flood of passionate love,
Love so sweet, so tender,
So passionate, so deeply moving
My heart could die from bursting,
So in love with You I am.

Your agony so thrashed my heart,
Crushed so like grapes in a wine press,
Ground like grain crushed in a mill.
But You have fermented my crushing
Into the wine of Your Love
And risen my ground up heart
Into the Bread of Your Life.

And I arose in the Morn
Unable to contain my love for You,
Unwilling to stop
The trembling love in my heart
That had risen from the ashes
Of Your agony.
With joy you catch
The overflow of this poor heart
And Your Passion is stirred anew,
Loved beyond the ability
Of a human heart to express.
Gathering up my bursting heart,
You press it to Yours
Until there is nothing left of me
But You, my Beloved.


A Communion of the Heart

Dear Jesus, Holy Gift of Life,
It was Your plan, so like You,
To never leave us.
As if Your one death
Was not enough,
Each day on a thousand altars
As Your priests speak Your Words
And they raise You up once again,
You stretch out Your arms
In eternal self-surrender,
Allowing Your Body to be broken,
And die for us once again.
As the cup of Your Blood is raised
And then poured out into us,
Drop by drop Your Blood is drained again
As You lose Yourself into us
Until “it is finished”
And we are all that remains
Of Your Life-giving, Precious Blood.

O Precious Lord of Sacrificial Love,
Make me Your tabernacle.
Live in me, grow in me,
That I may carry You to Your people.
Your Body one with mine,
Your Blood now my blood.
Make me Your shrine.

Teach me to surrender like You
Allowing my pride to be broken
So I may pour out Your Preciousness,
In continual sacrifice, to Your people.
Teach me to love You
In Your Sacrifice and Your people,
As You long to be loved.
Make Your longing my longing,
Your Sacrifice my sacrifice,
Your passionate love for me
My passionate love for You
In this altar and
In all of Your altars.

You, O Sacred Heart of Love,
Now enthroned within me,
May I encounter You, as in Emmaus,
In the Breaking of the Bread.
But also, as the tears of Your people,
Your Body, drop to the ground,
May I encounter Your shedding Blood
In their shedding tears.
Make me Your tabernacle.
May I bring them Hope in Your Resurrection.


The Dawning of the Light (revisited)

As the Light,
Hidden from us for a time,
Approaches the dawning,
The darkness
of that long night
Pales to gray.
We wait in hope and anticipation
For the dawning of the Light.

As the Light returns to our world,
Gray is erased.
Once again colors grace our lives
As darkness scurries from the Light.
We are saved from the darkness,
From the eternally cold night,
And as the rays of Light touch us,
We are warmed,
We come alive again.
Gladdened and grateful
For the return of Light
To our darkness,
We joyfully praise our God
Who from His Divine Heart
Has graced us with Life.

O Lord, may we turn our hearts
To the Source of our Light.
May we ever be mindful
Of the Source of all goodness.
May our hearts flee from darkness
Opening only to the Rays
Of Your Sacred Heart of Love.

O Night of Darkness
Flee from the Light
As Hope returns.
You have failed
To kill our faith
In a God who loves us
Who will return for us
As His Rays of Love

Spill into our waiting hearts
Nourishing us with His Love,
Gifting us with His Peace.


Easter dawn

Who Would Lift The Stone?

The days were intolerably long,
The nights longer,
Since they had laid Him in the tomb.
The thought of His Precious face,
The one whose glance had lifted her from her sins,
The hands and Heart that had touched her soul
With healing mercy,
How could this be dead
And closed in that cold tomb?
The pain crushed her heart
Like the stones of the tomb.
Who would save her now?
How would she go on
Without His Saving Love?
Who would lift the stone
From this tomb?

Tears would not stop,
Heart heaved in pain.
If Only I could look upon Him
One last time.
If I could gently anoint
His tortured body
With the precious oils
And sweeten His repose
With fragrant herbs and spices,
Covering His torture with a blanket of love.
A King such as He
Should repose in sweetness and love,
Not in tortured humiliation.
If I am the only one,
I will go to Him
And adore His Heart
That saved me.
But who will lift the stone
From the tomb?

The bright light hurt her eyes
As she, herbs in hand,
Moved along the path with the women
Towards the One who held her heart.
The sunshine, the cheerful birds,
The gentle breeze,
All seemed a mockery to her.
How joy without the Master?
Memories flooded her mind,
Agony gripped her heart.
How would she bear the sight of Him
So cold, so still, so lifeless?
Tears blurred her vision
And a voice called out:
Why do you search for the living
Among the dead?
He is not here.
He has been raised up.
Her heart pounded as she drew nearer.
What did this voice mean?
And who could lift the stone
From the tomb?

There before her lay the stone,
Already lifted.
Had they lost their way
Through their tears?
Could this be the tomb
Of the Master?
Entering this dark, cold place,
Her heart could not be controlled
At the sight before her.
The tomb that could not hold
The Light of Life
Lay empty.
The discarded wrappings of death
Lay cast aside.
Delirious with hope,
They knew not what to do.

Light appeared
And called her name.
Falling to the feet of her Master,
“Rabbouni,” she spoke, adoring Him.
The floodgate of her heart burst forth
As His voice stirred her soul.
Go and tell the others what you have seen,
He commissioned her.
Bowing to His Majestic Glory,
Set ablaze with His Love,
Transparent with His Grace,
His Presence left her transformed.
Trembling with excitement,
Heart on Fire,
She hurried to spread His Word.
Death could not conquer
Her Rabbouni!
And the stone on the tomb,
Cold as hearts can be,
Was moved.