Earth worships Green –
Bows beneath leafy canopies
To the fountain of youth,
Sings praises to virility and supple strength
In cathedrals fashioned by fads.
But after life killed her chlorophyll,
Her true beauty bloomed;
Wisdom and resilience have proven
Gold to be the new green.
Lord of the Harvest,
Illumine me;
Shine through the skin
where bruises bleed;
Be the Fruition
of Holy Seed;
Lord of the Harvest,
Illumine me.
Stoic stance,
stand me in good stead;
though the earth give way,
and the mountains rush into the sea,
I will not be moved.
Scales of Justice,
swing no more.
Grist,
remove thyself from the mill.
Super-sized inner strength,
with a side of courage,
usher the bride to the altar
and marry heart to intent;
Spirit whose breath
holds me aloft,
make good your boast
and hold me fast
in this solo dance,
stoic stance.
Things are looking up.
When soul is lemon-squeezed
and gutter-balled,
where else can it go?
When spirit is avalanche-prone,
barreling spiral of mountain-top madness
plunging to certain death in
cataclysmic fury,
getting up is
supreme progress!
When bottom is a taste in the teeth
and a grit in the face,
raising head to heaven
is elevation,
promotion,
accession to the Throne.
Don’t hide your tears, my child –
I give you permission to let them fall.
When life withholds its gavel,
when your Piper requires you to pay
a price set in the stars,
let them fall.
Mourn well.
The tension holding
what should be
far from what is,
will break you in its stern grip
unless you grieve;
Eden is long gone.
Cry away the withered hopes
and wash away bitter realities;
your sobs are soul-songs which
rise before the Throne above.
Such precipitation
precipitates
a newly laundered vision;
soon, my child,
Eden will rise
with
healing in its wings…
Hooded monks with vesper views,
Marking time on evening pews,
Meditating on Good News,
Footsteps padding light.
Cloaks and Cloth at sunset hour,
Kneeling in monastic tower,
Soaking rays of heaven’s power,
Bidding God goodnight.
*
This gorgeous flower is ‘Aconitum‘, commonly called ‘Monkshood’…
Sodden with the earthen dew,
Silent in your grassy pew,
Heart held up to heaven’s view –
Laying spirit bare.
Thoughtful in your reverie,
Earnest soul will ever be
Humbled here, on bended knee,
Daylily at prayer.
