For the first ten thousand years will be wiping of the tears:
all tears since time began. Each woman, child and man
will bring their liquid pain, grieving wounded, lost and slain,
days of mourning, nights of sighs, trembling moans and wailing cries.
How vast the sum of misery, approaching near infinity.

And the One Almighty Power (who has known the suffering hour)
will take us each aside and will wipe each tear we've cried.
Aching memories will be healed, perfect reasons be revealed.
For the Saviour will console until each broken heart is whole.
Then forever we will tell how the Lord has made us well.
(Surely ten ten thousand years! Lord, for there are many tears.)
HJ Nov 2009

 

We all know the troubled child
whose life is dark, whose way is hard,
who seems alone when in a crowd,
the lonely one and wandering.
We often pass the troubled child
who asks for change with outstretched hand.
And who can bring the change they need,
the troubled ones, the broken?
We all have been the troubled child,
known times when help and hope have fled,
but have recovered, found our path,
can walk on without faltering.
Have mercy on the troubled child:
she is yourself, from heaven's eye,
a picture of what heaven sees
in each of us. Bless such as these.
HJ Nov 2009

"First, I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it...we do not write in order to be understood; but we write in order to understand." - C. Day Lewis in Poetic Image

Ecclesiastes 9:11

With shards of broken poetry I scrape afflicted skin
in hopes the cleansing ritual will let the healing in.
So long the troubles have collected on my silvered head,
so unexpected, unforeseen the blows I could not dread.
Until the pit of pain is spread beneath my life of chance;
in pain I walk the tightrope, pausing in a knife-edge stance.
Though time may be the healer, it is time applies the brand,
and so I sit and scrape a bit, broken poetry in my hand.
HJ Oct 2009

 

John 6:29, 13:34, 16:33
"The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent."
"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."
"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

Song of Serenity

When the world is all too much with me
and the worries pile up endlessly,
when my tear-filled eyes make it hard to see
and I cannot find serenity...
Through the endless years you call my name,
You, the Holy One, always the same.
I can trust in you: you will carry me.
You have shown yourself full trustworthy.
For I do believe even when I fail
Your grace and love always will prevail.
And not only I, but every human soul
Is offered love, and to be made whole.

The work you call us all to do,
all you ask of us, is to believe in You.
There's a message we are sent to tell-
the New Command: love each other well.
Troubles, they will come, but I can rest assured.
I take heart for you have overcome the world.
So I ask in all humility
equip me, Lord, with serenity.
-HJ Sept. 17, 2009

 
Kiche Manitou campground
Spruce Woods Park, Manitoba

Restful silence.
Distant raucous crow.
A lone goose honked its way
across the early morning sky
as we lazed in snug sleeping bags
protected from the autumnal chill.
Woodsmoke curling,
woody vines twining,
leaves just beginning to change colour.

Jar of clay

 

This jar of clay is giving way.
The glaze is gone, its edges worn.
Hairline cracks leave winding tracks
that weren't there when it was born.
All 'round its base the wrinkles chase,
where once was surface smooth and gloss.
Now many a chip on the old jar's lip,
the question: is it gain or loss?
Is passing time really such a crime
if we're destined to be made anew?
Or must this life cease to bring sweet release
and let pure crystal waters flow through.
Whether loss or gain, old age is a pain,
though there's comfort we can take:
life's grief scratches deep, then a restful sleep,
sweet escape from the jar when we 'wake.
-HJ Aug 29, 2009

Just So

Stand in a pool
that is oh so cool
on an overworked hot hot day.
Lean your head back,
let your body go slack
and your limp limbs float away.
Beneath the cool flow
let all troubles go
and heal your soul's disarray.
Just so: long motorcycle ride,
Or a book long denied,
Or an hour alone, to pray.

"Oh God, save me from myself, save me from myself...this masterful self which manipulates your creation...this self which throws the thick shadow of its own purposes and desires in every direction in which I try to look, so that I cannot see what it is that you, my Lord and God, are showing to me. Teach me to stand out of my own light, and let your daylight shine." -Austin Farrer, quoted in Absolute Truths by Susan Howatch

Heaven goes by grace. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in. -Mark Twain