Mercy

Night sways.

The lilting tree fills

with mercy.

Raging day,

blue-jay’s anger,

dolor of

rose petals

softly falling

to tender

grass

forgiven

as whispers

the fading tree,

“do not

forget me.”

(22 July 2012)

At the Death of a Young Girl

"We cannot find Him unless we know we need Him."  Thomas Merton

I see its raw fury clawing at her hands,
Kissing her sallow face with lies so perfect on silk pillows,
Concealing raw, gaping wounds inside, the insult
The harsh silence, the enforced peace.
I have seen all this before, this beast, this darkness, this indifference
To waves of anguish washing through the room
As her mother weeps, and her father strokes
Her dark, perfect hair.
I see her, and
I know.

But what am I to say to their terror? These children
Look at me, questioning … after all,
I am their teacher…
But why did she die?, well, asthma… breath denied… but why?

I know this insistent knot, this question piercing my gut,
And I want to hide in silence, but questions will not be denied,
And I know their questions, all of them…
So what am I to say to calm their red, flowing eyes,
These, my poor, dark flowers, piercing me with their tears?

Faith.
Yes, read the book to them…Lazarus found out… faith…
Promises were made, now to be made good.
Yes, faith… what else is there but
Faith?
And so we say the rosary,
And we go on.

(12/15/2012)

At Caritas

I gaze

through the undergrowth

into deeper woods.

Redwoods rise,

limbs link tree

to brother tree,

climbing high

to the bright

coastal fog.

Walking out

I see the three,

still as lawn ornaments,

frozen in motion,

stunned

by my sudden form.

They stand and gaze

and reassured

by my stasis,

at last with lazy gait

back they move

into the nodding

trees.

(3 May 2016)

Abscissa of the Soul

Photo by Brian Federle: Seagull, New Brighton Beach, 2009.

“Once we enter again into contact with our own deepest self, with an ordinate self-love that is inseparable from the love of God and of His truth, we discover that all good develops from within us, growing up from the hidden depths of our being according to the concrete and existential norms laid down by the Spirit Who is given us from God. “
Thomas Merton, The New Man  

Go beyond 

the surface 

of things, 

deeper 

than thin soil 

fecund 

in the rain, 

but dried to dust

by the summer wind.

Dive head first 

into the darkness;

have faith 

that someone

will catch you, 

that you will

splash into 

a warm sea, 

that a strong hand 

will reach out

and save 

your life.

If you wait 

for proof

you will find only

a solid stone 

at your core.

Death 

is like that... 

facts dash 

your brains, 

bring you 

to the edge

of nothing.

But faith 

will lift you 

beyond 

your limitations, 

will bear you up 

on golden wings,

make of you 

the Royal Ordinate 

of time and space

and you will dance 

to the music 

of the spheres,

as without fear

you reach out 

to your Beloved,  

the Abscissa 

of the soul.

**********************************

Author’s Note: In mathematics, ordinate refers to that element of an ordered pair which is plotted on the vertical axis of a two-dimensional Cartesian coordinate system, as opposed to the abscissa.  on a graph, the "x" coordinate rises or falls on the vertical line, but never moves forward. Alone, it is doomed to fail, to fall to its eventual death because things that do not move forward always die. But with its abscissa, it has forward movement... purpose... life... and can continue to soar into the ether. I am not good at math but quite good at seeing things.

(25 June 2012)

Sunrise

Photo: Sunrise Orcas Island, 2014.  Brian Federle

"Sunrise is an event that calls forth solemn music in the very depths of man's nature, as if one's whole being has to attune itself to the cosmos and praise God for the new day, praise Him in the name of all the creatures that ever were or ever will be."  Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander

Oh call me softly

in the morning!

With winter's sun

paint golden

the pale trees.

In deep waters,

in cool ponds brush my 

legs, caress

my tender feet.

Your breath flies

through the green 
canyons.

With tongues

of flame

oh, ravish me!

(11 March 2013)

He Does Not Need Your Sacrifice

"He does not need our sacrifices, 

He asks for our selves."  

Thomas Merton, No Man is an Island

Your sacrifice is like

the breath

of the sparrow

in the roiling storm.

It is not needed

but pleasing in its

simplicity. 

When you peel away

your small, feathered

soul, when

you stretch your thin

lungs to sing

your hymn of self-

immolation,

remember that

it is not necessary,

no, not at all, 

but still pleasing is

the purity of

your song.

(25 Feb 2012)

The Baptism

I walked down from Nazareth with the crowd, 

nudged on by their excited chatter

and rumors of a crazy man by the river

shouting God at sinners,

thrusting them into the Jordan

like so much dirty laundry

to be rinsed clean and pure.

These are my people, 

hungry people

seeking new wine and

new bread, lepers

yearning to be cured,

But deep within me

silence grows,

and somehow I know 

that I am closer to Home,

though so far away 

from my father's workshop

and my mother's kitchen.

When John sees me

he takes my hands and gently 

pushes my face into the stream

befouled with the sins 

of the people...

I cannot see.

I struggle 

to rise and breathe,

from this watery death 

I want to be free,

and as I break through

I see His fire, I hear

His voice like a flash of wings

falling down on me,

calling me His Beloved Son,

telling the stunned crowd

to listen to everything

I will say.

In silence, 

I hurry away; 

into the empty desert 

I stray.

(7 Jan 2012)