The Dark Night of the Soul (How does my love look when she sleeps?) How does my love look when she sleeps? She sleeps quietly, not snoring, Soon sighing as she is dreaming. When the nightmare and terror disturb That quiet surrender to peace, She stirs, moans, and cries out for Me. Her face distorts, […]
Beneath the Weight Beneath the weight of death we’d break If God did not lift up that mass, Why? For love and mercy’s sake Until the weight of death should pass Even God had strained and groaned So heavy did our burden prove, That when He moved away that stone It was eternity He moved […]
A Flower’s Beatitude A poem dedicated to my wife The colorful glee of a flower’s bloom, tragically dies, If it does not touch joyful and receptive eyes. For flowers yearn to not only survive but to grow in the human soul, To avoid wilting into merely natural wholes. What a mysterious paradox of a natural […]
Spring When the sun loves, deeply, and with feeling, it penetrates the barren landscape and ignites the spirit wanting to emerge — in that instant, revealing verdant fields covered in flowers, big and small, growing toward the light… broadcasting a symphony of colors. Maria Morera Johnson
When God Makes Bread To make bread one needs: • A mixing bowl • The ingredients • A mixing spoon • And finally fire (heat) The bowl must be appropriate for the bread. It must be strong enough to hold the mixture, Not too large, not too dainty. Comfortable enough to cradle in the arm. […]
Look Home Retired thoughts enjoy their own delights, As beauty doth in self-beholding eye ; Man’s mind a mirror is of heavenly sights, A brief wherein all marvels summed lie, Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store, Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more. The mind a creature is, yet can create, […]
Good Friday On this day a cross was shed. The price was paid. The ransom satisfied, The debt was removed. Hung He had for those long hours, In silence and in suffering. The pain severe Enough (so as) to bring agony to the witnesses. He held His cries ‘Till the bitter end, When He pleaded […]
Fourteenth Station Good Friday I am here, watching the hole, Filled with a rock and still There is danger, stupid anger. I heard him speak once; He was very good. Like a god. Maybe he was a god. Maybe he was God. So we killed God and buried him in a hole. He’s in the […]
Thirteenth Station Good Friday He’s dead? Already? I was sure he would remain, A living human stain, Hanging up there, he should have been good For another few hours of gory food. I cannot believe this news. You are sure? You saw it too? Really? Fine. Do what you will. Take him down. Let him […]
Twelfth Station Good Friday Father, forgive them, they know not what they do. I’m not saying they aren’t culpable, But they don’t know better. They choose this evil, but they don’t know why. Working through them? Lord, I understand. So forgive them their part, Lord, if they are willing. Not my will, though, but Thine. […]
Eleventh Station Good Friday “My friends, you are my closest ones. You alone I can trust. You are my closest companions, James, here, you have some dust Stuck to your shirt, There, cleaned off the dirt. My three friends, Peter, James, and John, Are closer to me than the rising sun. I tell you this, […]
Tenth Station Good Friday My pretty bird, sing for me. My, what beautiful feathers, What beautiful fetters. I’ll take them off you, And your feathers too. My bird, my worm, dove turned to dirt. Aww, you cry. I’ll wipe your face. The back of my hand cleans that disgrace. Foolish man, you are nothing now. […]
Ninth Station Good Friday Why doesn’t he stay there? It’s good for him, the old dusty air. Kings of Kings have trodden here, Holding dear Sacred relics of God and Man, Keeping them hidden, doing what they can to help God. No, this man won’t enjoy the dirt. He will not rest, His loins are […]
Eighth Station Good Friday Mother, who’s that man? Why is he sighing? Mother, who’s that lady? Why is she crying? Mother, who’s that man? Why is he bleeding? Mother, who are these ladies? Why are they weeping? Why are you weeping? Mother? Mommy? Matthew B. Rose
Seventh Station Good Friday I can see Him now, coming up this way, Murmuring words no man can say. Worming his way along the path, He trusted all, all for their worth Broken, bleeding, he heard their pleading A mother in love, a Father above, Spittle flying, Love is dying. I hear crying. O My […]
Sixth Station Good Friday Come, all you who pass by. Can you hear them moan and sigh? Hot tears, bitter tears, All your fears, All those years, Were they a waste? I will not let it be a waste. Here, man, if you will not turn back, Here is a piece of my own slack, […]
Fifth Station Good Friday My God, My God, Why am I here? Why the tortures Horrors Grimly I fear This Dies Irae It seems so dark Lonely, lonesome O God, where are you? Answer Me! Matthew B. Rose
