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!

Immanence

I know you stroll 
beyond Andromeda
gazing on Magellanic Clouds,
but I cannot see that far. 

I am stardust 
to Earth-fallen.

Yet I seek you in the autumn rain,
hear you singing in the evening wind.

Your breath fills my empty lungs,
your smile lights my darkened eyes,
and my heart overflows 
with your sacred blood —

love spilling,
Earth-fulfilling.

(11 June 2011 - 2/19/2019)

Rose at Nightfall

“God wants to know the divine goodness in us.” Thomas Merton

Red rose flames

in shade of day’s end.

Night sifts gently

through dark trees;

but the rose!

the rose yet blooms;

defies the fall

of night’s certain pall.

7/31/13

to the center

Photo: Brian Federle, "Night", 2014


the

beat

steady;

constant hum,

music of days to

night fading; the right note, only

song you know; sum of your days, falling, falling to night.

so

go

to the

center, to

the black place to wait

for Him. Don’t call out in fear for

there’s nobody there but you and He, so simply be

and

hear

how His song

fills your darkness with

light; smile at Him, your familiar

bright friend, and no longer will you fear your emptiness.

(23 Dec 2013)

Aubade: Vale of Tears

Photo Brian Federle, Sun in Trees, Russian River. April 2016

Morning fog

caressed

my winter tears

as unseen geese

(noisy gaggle)

crossed the opaque sky.

Things well hidden

confuse

my fragile faith,

so when bright, piercing rays

broke through

this lonely vale of tears

I thought it was only the sun

not the golden light,

desire of my fleeting years.

Peter's Report

The Disciples Peter and John Running to the Sepulcher

 on the Morning of the Resurrection by Eugène Burnand

Running all the way,

bent double in breathless pain

we peered and saw

the gaping grave

open to the rising sun.

Slowly we entered, our eyes sun-blind,

when we saw the empty bench,

the bloody cloth cast within.

I try to imagine

the piercing flash,

the sudden shudder

of His broken body,

His sharp breath exploding

like a swimmer breaking the surface,

when I saw John’s eyes

outshining the sun,

and my own face

lighting even death's

darkest place!

(24 April 2011, 31 March 2018)

The Movement of the Soul

Photo, Brian Federle; In Golden Gate Park, 2013

"All the passions can be reduced to four: joy, hope, fear, and grief. 

These four are so closely connected that, when one is controlled, 

the others all obey.  Consequently they can be reduced to one: joy.  

And desire is the movement of the soul seeking joy."  

Thomas Merton, The Ascent to Truth

Fear

is knowing

how darkness

bears down, how the

storm thrashes

the autumn-bare

trees.

Summer's birds

cannot withstand
the fearful night
so they flee.

Fear

leads to grief

when tumors increase.

Blood grows

thick

until, together

at last, we stand

coffin-side

and wonder

why.

This is the line that splits heaven from hell.

We comb his hair

and shave his face,

carefully fold a rosary

into his cold hands,

and wonder that

his chest is

so still.

But his eyes are safely

sealed against the

terrors of the grave,

so we lay him to rest

and slowly go

our separate ways.

Remember

those cold March days

when we stood, our

backs to the rising sun?

Too bright to see,

we felt the sun stroking us

with a lover's warmth,

rekindling in us

hope's desire.

Thus will it always be.

Death can never win

though the illusion is strong.

The mortal body succumbs

but the soul ascends,

like birds, joyfully rising

to the morning sun.

I, John

Photo: Brian Federle, Desert Sunrise, Dec. 2016


I, John, declare.

Listen!

Can you hear?

Open your eyes and see.

With outstretched hands reach and

proclaim to the world of endless strife

the Word of peace,

eternal Life!

*

ref: 1 John 1:1-4

(23 December 2011)

September 11th

“At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will.”  Thomas Merton

+++

Rushing from shower to sink, I heard the TV
blare its usual chatter of news and advertising
as we made our hurried preparations
for another busy day,
when I saw it:
dark smoke rising into the blue New York sky.

And I stopped, all schedules forgotten, transfixed
by high flames scorching glass and steel.

Calmly, the newsman speculated
about airliners and tragic accidents,
when the passive camera caught it, the black spot
flying straight and sure as a bullet, piercing
the second tower in a shower of orange flame and shattered glass.

This was no accident,then, this morning violence, and I wondered
how many people were already at work when,
pinned by burning jet fuel and melting steel, their busy day
suddenly ceased in searing red pain and numb darkness?

I wanted to go on with my own day,
to hide in the comfort of my routine,
but I could not turn away when I saw jumpers
drop to merciful deaths;

I saw a suited businessman,
pale in white dust, slowly plodding
through a deluge of drifting memos,
clutching his briefcase like a life preserver;

I heard the shrill, muffled
sirens of ambulance and fire-trucks,
lost in the dirty fog of terror.

And I knew in that moment
that we all are New Yorkers,

we all are falling into our dark, quiet center
where, sinless and without fear,
we encounter God, Yahweh, Allah,

The Eternal,  

as our shattered bodies rise
through flames of anger
into the pure, cool, forgiving
September air.

(9/11/2011)

Compassion

Photo: Brian Federle

“What is my new desert? The name of it is compassion. There is no wilderness so terrible, so beautiful, so arid, and so fruitful as the wilderness of compassion.” Thomas Merton

I’ll wander with you
in our pain.

Though dry days
and star-drenchd nights
we’ll search the sharp rocks
for pools of cool tears.

Forty days and
forty nights shall we journey
through the wilderness,

to the green oasis
where we’ll flourish;

audacious 
lilies in hidden springs

and there  
we’ll possess
every good thing.

(13 Oct 2012/revised 7/31/2018)

Summons

“When the sun rises each one of us is summoned
by the living and the dead to praise God.”
Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander.

In the morning
you sent clouds towering
and drove fine ice
into the tender rose,

(its red petals scattered, 
a holocaust 
on pure white ground)

and took my breath away!

Father, I seek you
like death, 
clean and clear
in the ringing air.

Green and golden, 
long shadows flow east
and birdsong fills 
your nodding trees.

In the gentle rhythm
of the swaying wind
there I hear 
your song again.

(10/2/2012)

Faith

Photo Brian Federle: Overcast in Oregon, 2008

Faith

is seeing my blood

coursing through

shut eyelids

and feeling

blood pushing down

into my arms and legs,

believing

it will soon return

to my darkly

beating heart.

But faith is more than

seeing

or believing.

Faith shines

like the cloistered sun

concealed by thick

autumn clouds.

Faith knows

all my childish lies,

and gently laughs

at my innocence.

Faith stalks me,

deep into my desert

where, trembling,

I wait for her famished arrow.

I love faith;

in her passionate embrace

I fall into my

darkest night.

I fear faith;

slave to her lacerating truth

reluctantly I walk

into her relentless light.

New Wine into Fresh Skins!

Renew me, wash me
in deeper pools open my
righteous, narrow mind,

for your wine over-
whelms, rends ancient seams, blood streams,
my weakness reveals.

Make me a new man
and I'll hold your wine within
my fresh, new-made skin.

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

"...nobody puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost and the skins too. No! New wine into fresh skins!" Mark 2:22

(19 Oct. 2012)

Leap of Faith

You decided

that you want me,

and so commanded

flashing angels

to invade my night.

With blind bliss 

to contend,

and weary with seraphic strife

I gave in:

(a pious moment

here and there,

a sign of the cross,

a whispered prayer),

until, patient Father,

in bright dreams you called

and led me high 

up your holy mountain

promising

that I will rise

and never,

never fall.

(24 Dec. 2011)

Passage: Sunset. Photo by Brian Federle, 2016

Paradise

Deep inside

I carry paradise,

A bright flood,

pours through

my soul’s veins,

but like those blind fish,

I cannot see

the holy river

running through me.

On a good, clear day, though,

staring hard beyond,

I can almost see

God’s holy fire

glancing off

my boundless sea.

(3/30/17)

Light, directly infused

Photo Brian Federle, Sunset at Carlsbad, Jan. 2016

“Faith reaches the intellect not through the senses

 but in a light directly infused by God.” Thomas Merton

Rising from the sea

 death’s veil

overwhelms me.

Brief day fails,

fills the sky

with starry sails

wandering planets,

moonbeams

cold and bright –

holy spirit

of faithful night.

(2012: 2017)

Lovesong

I will be there always
even though you don't know me.

My life will shine in your eyes,
O child of my child.

With your small, quick breaths
I will breathe again,
and when you cry
my faithful heart will again break.

So look for me in the still, high trees;
the green brilliance of the winking sun
will be our secret signal.

You don't know me, but
your soul, your golden love,
your fears and hopes
I will keep safe in my heart,

and in the soft wind will I sing to you
O beautiful child.
I will guard you
as you play.
 
Look up at dancing spring clouds
and shout your joy skyward
to me!

(8 December 2010)

Angels

Àngel duent-se una dona, Cementiri Poble Nou, Barcelona

Photo by David Chacobo on Flickr

Angels rise to pure atmosphere

and call us to share

their freedom.

Hear how they sing

living spring

into our wintered world!

At last we rise

redeemed

to silver souls

in golden

light.

(16 Feb 2011)

grace

Hail Mary

full of grace

you are

filled with grace,

with grace

fill me

in streams

of yes

draw me

to where you are

to where He is

among wo-

men,

yes,

among men

blessed

fruitful, grace-

fully gliding

through the

dark veil

at the hour

of yes

to my

death,

amen.

(29 December 2012)