The eyes
are the windows
into the human soul.
Agony, pain, deep sorrow,
pure joy, great passion, and adoration.
The emotions born in the heart
brimming to the surface
looking out through
the eyes.
Hurry!
So much to do!
No time to smell the roses.
Just check off the boxes and move
on to the next thing on the agenda.
What happens if we don’t finish?
There is no keeping score.
Relax. Breathe. No
hurry.
A chance
to start anew
to put aside the hurt,
wringing out the pent up anger
that has paralyzed me for too long.
It’s like riding a bike again.
I remember how and
just need to take
a chance.
Divine
energy flows
through our eyes, hearts and hands.
From one body to another
we reflect the love inspired by Jesus.
Living among us He became
the immortal, fully
human, fully
divine.
Great things.
Words, stories, songs.
Images from senses
such powerful touchstones of strength
in times of happiness or great turmoil.
Strong energy drawn from sources
of divine origin.
The Lord has done
great things.
If
mercy
is given
and accepted,
it blesses two times.
Its power is mighty.
The one who grants mercy is
compassionate and forbearing.
The one who receives mercy is freed
from self-righteousness and honored with grace.
God
gives us
space and time
as life forms us.
Yes, we need to be
in the community
helping our neighbors, being
compassionate and generous.
Yet, we need to feed our own spirits
so we may walk with faces lifted up.
There
is real
magic in
the liturgy.
To commend the words
chanted in unison
is quite transformative.
In the speaking, there is comfort.
For once we know it in our heads
we are able to pray it from our hearts.
Our
world, a
fabric of
many colors.
Lives intersecting
randomly and shooting
off in parallel directions,
then merging together again.
Threads woven into a glorious
tapestry of life imitating art.
With
wonder
I prepare
for the first day
of spring. Glimpses of
early redbud blossoms
hold the promise of rebirth.
That bare branches suddenly sprout
perfect crimson flowers is proof of
nature prophesying resurrection.
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I saw the first redbud blossoms today on my way to Richmond which inspired my poem. I wanted to find out more about redbud trees and in researching them found they are also called the Judas tree. Although the story doesn’t add theological support to my poem, I would be remiss if I did not recount how the redbud tree became known as the Judas tree.
The story is that the redbud trees asked the Lord a favor. Since the great traitor Judas Iscariot hung himself on this tree, they asked the Lord to ensure that it never happened again. The Lord agreed and since then, all redbud trees have grown short with thin limbs that are low to the ground, thus unsuitable for hanging. The Lord also caused crimson blooms to burst out along the branches like rivulets of blood as a reminder of the blood Christ shed for the sins of the world, and the innocent blood betrayed by Judas. And the leaves would grow in the shape of hearts, to remind all who look of the endless and boundless love of God for our lost race.
Source: wiki.answers.com
Windows To The Spirit 