God is never missing

xxxx

Always on

Always present

xxxx

Yet the greatest faith

Is the lack of it

Practicing love when it’s unreturned

Or so it seems

xxxx

Giving to the ingrate

Who seems to always want more

Living a life of servanthood

When all desires pull me elsewhere

xxxx

These are the marks of love unleashed

A love hidden deep in the dark night of the soul

Richer than the mystic who has affirmation

Stronger than the preacher with perceived truth and waves it like a flag

xxxx

For the lover who loves quietly and silently without reward

Is the truer one

Where sadness is felt but not transmitted

Where the recourse is another visit to the well

xxxx

In the hope Jesus will be there someday

Is it lost only if it missing

Or if I remember it is missing

And the reunion of found.

Is that reserved only for something I once owned

Nearby confusion harangued a soul,

Perhaps for 30 years, oscillating

And then, like a pleasant infection

Permeated from the walls to another place.

xxx

The repair complete,

I found myself comprised of thoughts of others

And even love within,

So confused I could not tell where I started

xxx

Or ended.

xxx

The house in the woods had become the woods

And the woods disguised the house

So were complete …

As the artist intended

xxx

Now the air and the water

Which nourishes life

For me and the plants

Have connected all in a silent, harmonic sound

A windchime of love, broadcasting its mystery.xxx

xxx

Today the good air quality

Let’s us see each other

Feel each other

And though speech is unnecessary

xxxxxx

We glimpse the oneness in small locutions

The housecoat protects

and identifies

The work of the mammy

xxx

Affirming an annunciation

To serve others

And God through them

xxx

I dislike housecoats

Not for their purpose

Which alone is fair

xxx

But for their disposition

As servants are of God alone

xxx

All else being of man

Is the end of the line an abrupt stop;

Or a screeching, H1 pencil.

When the pain comes in from those who dislike you,

Or what you have done,

Or seems you had done;

The fork in the road rushes up.

xxxx

To vilify and engage in debate,

Shredding their argument,

And then their clothes;

Until they are left naked, and your work is done.

xxxx

Or listen and pray,

Perhaps then, we might hear what is behind the words,

The critiques, the noise,

And learn what is in their heart.

xxxx

Which may tell us what is in ours.