The Center
A place to belong,
where the heart rest
and speaks its words.
A place to know
the me that I am
naked and sure.
A place to become,
not what you want
not what I should.
A place where the trees
grow more of themselves,
never questioning why or when or how.
A place to belong.
A place to belong to.
bh
The Ancient Mystery is found
in each note on the wind,
each leaf on the branch,
each breath, out and in
and in puffs filled with star dust
backgrounded by blue.
Ancient Mystery is found
in love that is true,
in bunny’s puffed tails,
the tasseled corn stalk,
this radiant morning
on a country walk.
And on city streets
where people amass
Ancient Mystery is found.
This Mystery is vast.
Neither living nor dying
to eternal eyes
are bereft of that Mystery.
Even there it resides.
Behind and before,
without and within,
yourself and others
through it are akin.
In the heart of the universe
it ever creates.
Be still oh dear one, Mystery
Sweet Mystery,awaits.
For Their Friends (Memorial Day 2025)
They laid down their lives for their friends.
We remember our heroes, their names.
We record for history their battles.
We allow them their honor, their fame.
But we must not stop here in remembering.
Our words will not be enough.
They laid down their lives for their friends,
And for freedom for all of us.
For the integrity of the country they loved,
For justice and liberty for all.
They laid down their lives for their friends.
We must not let their legacy fall.
No sovereign shall rule this nation.
It was always to these noble ends.
With bayonets, canons, tanks and guns,
They laid down their lives for their friends.
Millions have fought throughout history.
Millions bled and died with their friends.
Millions found peace and rest in their gift.
Because they laid down their lives for their friends.
Gentle rain this morning,
a rumble of distant thunder
say "be well my friend"
from this place of wonder.
Thank you Lord
for greenery and flowers,
for stillness and bunnies
for these sacred hours.
The Mystic
Content with the pattering raindrops.
Content with one chirping bird.
Content with a passing train whistle
Content with prayers without words.
Content with hands open and waiting.
Not reaching ahead nor behind.
Content with not having the answers.
And to this simple moment resign.
Rain waters the earth,
Plants stretch and grow.
And enriching it all,
A silent earthworm below.
Content with remote labors unseen.
“Our task is one of very remote preparation, a kind of arduous and unthanked pioneering.”
Thomas Merton
The dust from the day,
calloused and worn.
Worries embedded
like flesh with a thorn.
A basin, a towel,
a pitcher of water.
A lesson on how
to love one another.
The last foot washed.
He gently dries.
Then with love looks up
into Judas' eyes.
