Poems from The Ark
Poem One, The Violet
A moment of God showing one vulnerable and small
in the face of mysterious Love
The Spirit chooses my fate and leads me
as long as I am docile, like a small stream
against a high bank, like the sea contained
So, I am protected, like a child waiting
to hear the Voice of the Father saying
Oh Little One, where are you, where have you been
I have been waiting for you
in the field of lilies and wheat
Against the clear sky and the blue sea
which changes like moods, grey, white,
yet serene in its antiquity, touched by the oars
of Odysseus and witnessing the sails of Valletta
Who can judge the sea, who can judge one's self?
In a moment of particular judgement, I see the horror
of my sin, in the face of Pure Innocence and Goodness
He alone judges me and stands before the gate,
with The Woman at His Right Hand, she who is
All Beautiful and All Kindness
The Lady smiles and all is well, and all will be well
as she takes from Her Princely Son, the hand of those
who rely on her mercy and His forgiveness
Oh Great Ones, how can I look at your purity
How can I be anything at all except dust?
And, the King walks beside me, He Who is God
and Man, He walks as I walk through the trials set
by Him, for His Glory and my salvation
He walks with me, as He calls me sister, friend
and I am, but only because He has called me
But, one of His Little Ones, crowned not with jewels,
like those Pearls who have gone before in innocence
those Pearls who wear the emblem of perfection
No, my crown is merely flowers, which would die
in the other land, but here do not fade
Like a small child betrothed at an early age, not
understanding the King who will be her Spouse
like the trusting girl, who places her hand between
the large hands of the Father, blessing her, giving
her guidance and protection, I wait
Yet, I do not understand and deny any status, except
that of the violet by the pathway, which some step
over and some step on, and some notice, but for
a moment, then pass on. Like the violet, wild and only
there, because of a Roman matron who was lonely
for the Aventine brought some on the ship, so I wait
And, where is he, and what is he thinking and do
I even have a right to know, to wonder, about
someone who is so far above me, yet my brother
yet the one I choose to love, because I was given love
and said yes, because I am free to love
Like Peter, I was asked three times and three times
I said yes, because He Who asks knows the way
will be hard, yet the only way, the way to Rome
the way home to the heart of the Church
where all is serene, like the grey sea
Poem Two An Adventure in Grace
I alone see his youth, his tall and slender stature, his smile
which takes over his face and lights up those around him
I alone see through the mist of time to another day, in the
Hand of God, who outside time knows us in a stream of life
We are not just now, but were and will be in Him and if
He chooses, He shares the past, the present and the future
In a moment of Love, which takes me outside myself
into another time, a time of peace and innocence
How He sees me, how He sees him, young and innocence
awaiting an adventure in the Heart of Christ, Who is
and always was. The newness is eternity, is healing, is earthy
contentment for a time, a short time, yet holding all
in the breath of the air, in the flight of a bird, life lives
in a fullness, in a perfection which is God Alone
And, yet, He chooses to share this vision of perfection
of eternity with one who is so low, so insignificant
the small one called to wear a ring of power, if only
for awhile, realizing the authority and the pain, and
the joy of completion. Will he respond, will he say
yes to an adventure outside his imagination, yet imagined
by God from all time? Freedom to be all one can be takes
courage and a step outside time, forever changed, forever loved.
And because I love, I am given vision, the shared
vision of the Son of God, who gives His gifts as He wills
I did not ask for Love, Love came to me, in an instant
in a quiet, yet determined yes, a shadow of the Great Fiat
Her Perfection is a guide for me, who loves less freely,
less intensely, but with all the will I have
Her Yes gave me life, and my yes will invite life
on a smaller, less sacred, but redeemed manner
for am I not allowed to be part of redemption
am I not allowed to take part in the great dance
which is sacrifice, pain and joy, meeting in Love?
And, the Theotokos waits, while I am lead by two
to Her throne. She waits, knowing what is and
can be. She rejoices in the Will of Her Son and
she rejoices in giving wine to the wedding feast
the wine which is Her Son's blood and my salvation
Oh Queen, I did not know that He would lead me
to you and that you would lead me to Him
I did not know that I was to bring another with me
and that he would bring me with him, because this
was the Will of the Father, who knows who we are,
nothing and yet, sharers in the walk
But will we open our hearts and take courage?
Will we set aside fear and uncertainty for a
great adventure in grace? Stealing a line
from Raissa looking inward for meaning...
Poem Three-Orion
I look at the southern sky and see the Hunter
his belt streaming against the dark night
Strider, the one who hunts and holds his
weapon up to the heavens in the winter night
For months, he walks the sky, holding myriad
stars in his person, his sign reigning over the night
of my birth and that of My Saviour's, who sky
was ordained and who gave me my night
so close to His in birth. Orion, who I have
followed over the continents at the turn of night
over the seas of the south and the mountains
of the green lands, where the darkness of night
is marred by the full moon, Strider comes bringing
the cold and taking the cold, in the large sky of night
He looms, the giant and his dog, Tonight, planets
dance at his right, and far to the north, the night
streaks with mist, covering the Wain and hiding
the Galaxy which holds our small night
Orion claims the sky and will not yield to another
his hunt over the centuries does not change the night
but I change, I wait, I see the setting moon, ablaze
like a red star, as Orion turns into a different night
My constellation, my guide from the deepest bay
to the green valleys and hedges, lining the night
like braiding on a dress, like the scoring of a
perfect landscape, like the boundaries of night
Only the Sisters, the Pleaders compete for my
attention, but Orion kneels until the last night, waiting
to rest.
Poem Four—Stars in Orion
Twice in my lifetime, I have seen shooting stars
cross the belt of Orion.
Twice I have seen the dying pieces of rock
tossed into the sky
like the small flames from the sparklers
held by a child
in Mid-Summer. These arcs of light
cross my mind in memory
and I rejoice in the simplicity
of light in light in Orion
