Emptiness

In the dark, a bell sounds

a mournful tune

calling out from the crypt

of a mausoleum

that stands at the center

of where the world began

and now collapses.

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Five Haiku’s

My Child

Her tears were falling

washing memories away

of the empty crib.

Pilate

He sits at table

reaches for the blood red wine

with his blood stained hand.

Good Friday

Day has become night

the condemned slowly die

the people walk away.

Maundy Thursday

Bread is broken open

dirty feet cleansed with his tears

as wine becomes blood.

Love Lost

In the dim moonlight

I reach out to feel your warmth

in that vacant space.

The Wait

Now we wait

in the midst of the noise

we wait

the anticipation grows

the need for light intensifies

our hearts are not filled

with the goods being hawked

so we get more

thinking to fill the emptiness

that will never be filled

so the soul waits

knowing what we do not

knowing that the true light

is so near, yet, so far

it knows our needs

even as we run

from the love reaching out

touching us deeply

and in the silent watches

we stand still

hearing the whispers of life

of peace on earth for all

The Wait

I come to this place

to find myself imagining

where is my God

in the wildness of the wind,

where do I go to listen

for that voice so dear,

to once again hear that call

and feel the spirit within,

the wilderness is cold

the heart is broken

and now I stand here

in supplication and prayer

seeking the divine Logos

to speak to my darkened self

calling me from my tomb

into the light of the living One.

The Dream

Hair of spun gold

eyes as blue as the sea

her skin alabaster

she walks softly

along the narrow paths

in the early morning

footfalls silent

as she draws near

I see her standing

beckoning me with a look

silence fills the woodlands

my eyes are only for her

I’m a prisoner

caught in her web

as she vanishes

mist rising from the ground

The Retirement Journey, So Far.

I sit here reflecting on what retirement has meant so far as the third month slowly passes. I sit and write, I also read but I’m still on a journey, towards what, I’m not sure. These moments in life where we sit between what was and what might be are good times to take stock of what is important and what is not. Usually, when I’ve transitioned from one life event into another, I would allow the darker aspects to take root and depression would be planted. This time, I’m in a different place and although there is uncertainty, I don’t feel any anxiety or urgency just to do something. There is a certain freedom that comes when you don’t feel rushed into making a decision that may or may not be the best for that moment. Strangely, I’m okay living in this in between time. I don’t need certainty what I need is time to pray, write and reflect. Priesthood, mine in particular, had it’s moments of good and not so good which has shaped who I am. Now I have the opportunity to examine this shape, like a sculptor who examines his work once he’s chiseled away a bit of the granite. Carefully the artist takes their time to ensure that not too much is chiseled away too quickly, they also must follow the granites veins, look for what the stone is saying to them. I can examine my own life thus far in the same way, not going at it with a sledge, but carefully chiseling away at it, following the natural flow that presents itself as I work at the larger piece. There is plenty of rock to work with, it’s just knowing where to start and how much to begin working on. Writing, like any art, takes time as well as talent. Well, time I have, it’s talent that is suspect. It’s easy to read books on writing, it’s easy to get lost in the authors words of wisdom, but the real test is comes in actually writing something. Parker Palmer, author of many books filled with wisdom, said, and I paraphrase here, that writers just need to put out their stuff for all to read and see to get some idea if they have anything of worth.

The Note

She taped the envelope to the door

and then slowly walked away,

the years of regret and pain

had finally come to this moment.

The note was short and to the point,

the only way she knew

how to express her deepest feelings.

Her fear that he would one day explode.

as she touched the bruise on her cheek

still sore even after so many days,

yet, her heart bore a deeper bruise

the bruise of a betrayal of her love.

The years she gave to him

the children she bore,

the house she kept

now she took that note

sealed in the envelope

taping it to the one place he was sure to see it

and as she slowly walked away

out of the front door and down the path

she mused on what he might do

as she entered the taxi taking her away

back to her own true love