Morning

when the sky is still black

and stars glitter

like there's no

tomorrow,

the overblown moon

luxuriant

above seaborne fog...

this is the time

of magic

when birds,

startled by dawn's

first spark,

raise sharp beaks

and sing

the first song of

morning.

Pure Hope

Ukraine mourns its dead; scores of empty strollers were lined up in the cobbled central square of the city of Lviv on Friday to commemorate the children killed in the country since Russia's invasion.

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“We are not perfectly free until we live in pure hope. For when our hope is pure, it no longer trusts exclusively in human and visible means, nor rests in any visible ends. “ Thomas Merton

Close the gun’s edge

life is sharply

defined.

Clarity is achieved

when you have nothing left

but hope.

That’s when you realize

that your life stands

without any visible

means of

support;

like a high-

wire walker,

you are

pure.

That’s why

you have the freedom

to stand between

the red rage

and the children.

Greenland

sheets of ice

cascading to the sea,

plunging in the summer sun

like kids cannon-balling into the deep end.

global warming

spawning new islands and bays,

a lush new age of water,

green-house gases rising

in a great belch

from the man's

energy binge.

But what is the cause?

Hydrocarbons burning in roaring cars?

The unseen dead rising

into the innocent stratosphere?

Jungle trees are burning

as, wild-eyed, the panther

prowls the Amazon village

hungry for her own energy fix.

We could blame it all on Fulton and Watt:

their steam-punk monsters spitting fire,

as trudging workers descend

into the industrial-grade darkness

and the misery of the money hole.

But one bright student

suggested  a more somber cause

from which there is no escape

in cap and trade.

Gaia, walking with large swings,

slings up

volcanos and glaciers and men

while, deep in her brooding, iron core,

she shrugs,

and, most inconveniently,

takes her own sweet time

smiling

as she contemplates

her next move.

(20 Oct 2013)

Simplicity of being

Photo: Brian Federle, Lanterns, 2014.

"....it is of the very essence of Christianity to face suffering and death not because they are good, not because they have meaning, but because the resurrection of Jesus has robbed them of their meaning.” 

Thomas Merton

*********

The moon fades, 

clouds enshroud stars

pale trees glare 

ensnared by winter winds 

blanching at death's edge,  

and yet you whisper 

gently in the rain, 

promise me gifts 

of disease and pain

to strip me clean

and pure again.  

O, make me

your sacrament!

pure essence,

of eternal gain.

(11 Sept. 2011: rev. 5-17-2018)

How Beautiful (from Isaiah 52:7)

"The inspirations of the Holy Ghost are quiet, for God speaks in the silent depths of the spirit. "Thomas Merton

How beautiful 

on the mountain

are the feet of him 

who treads

bright paths of

freedom!

From winter's

gray day he

sings into being

new life

peace

and eternal 

light!

prayer

Photo Brian Federle: Morning, Washington State, Aug. 2014


deep in my center

lies the
word.

it resonates
softly, it
whispers
in my ear.

its lover,
silence,
embraces
the word
like thick mist
caressing
golden
coastal slopes.

but this crude song is
a metaphor,
an anxious gong,
a poor imitation,
a mockingbird.

patiently,
the word
resists
all explanation.

it just simply
is.

(3 Sept. 2010)

Angeles

Just before nightfall

your new leaves

softly sway

in the cool delta breeze,

your limbs glint

in flames of

a deeper shade

where rough trunk rises

from clambering vinca,

to violet fire.

Oh! Dance with the angels!

Dance with Lord

of the Trees!

His breath will stir you to passion.

His song will lull you

to sacred sleep. 

(22 April 2012)