A Mother’s Love

The baby’s plaintive cry, calls out to change her world:

to suit just her alone, as if her eyes could lie.

She is a creature small, on one great massive orb-

She wails against it all, but finds her mother’s love.

What mystery she feels, her hands upon her skin-

her lips, her touch, her smile, now soothed in silent awe:

one part of God revealed.

Of Cana’s Great Chained Mountains

It is as ancient as the stones, yet fresh as morning dew;

as strong as brimming full moon tide, but faint as dawn’s first light….

a wave, a ram, a wild unbroken horse, a lion who does prowl…a force beyond remorse-

a lamb, a rose, a young dove’s perfect wing…a tender shoot, a sprout of hopeful spring.

It reaches past the ages, created yet creating, it leaves the kindred call.

It is a chain of many links, a tree with branches tall, a prison with its freedoms, a refuge for a fall.

It is a heart of pain forgiven, a toil of hardship’s trust: his love for his beloved; her redeemer’s loyal call.

Two mountains tied together, transformed at Cana’s wedding, His love abideth all.

The Christmas Debutante Ball

What queer place is this, a pattern of heaven, a blueprint for demons,

a chorus of saints, a drama of hell?

“Most assuredly it is heaven”, he said, “these comely young ladies are as angels, they dance on thin air, they dress in all white, please try not to stare”.

“Are you blind to the proud, the gossips, and boors, this place is of hell, I can take it no more.”

“But see the happy fathers, with generosity galore, as chivalrous as knights, giving the sweet angels in love, nothing more”.

“Can’t you see those bejeweled women so rich and so proud, so false and pretentious, I want to scream it out loud”.

“Yes, the ladies they smile, but with gloves on their hands, their good manners

derive from the gospel, even in these obscure, strange, false, foreign lands.”

“Those hens how they cluck, those snobs, how they look down,

their manners won’t save them”, he said with a frown.

“All manners are patient, all manners are kind, all manners insist but on love to mankind.  On this great green earth, even where the brokenness abounds, the Author of Love, the Giver of Hope, the joy of the Christ Child can nonetheless be found.”