Gloria

Photo, Brian Federle: Pacifica Sunset

Sudden light

flares in the eastern sky.

Bright clouds burst

and consume the void

with glory.

The newborn child,

wrinkled and pink, warms

in his mother’s embrace

and waits for the stunned world

to exhale.

(23 December 2012)

Magnificat

The poor still wait

for bolted doors to open

hunger to be filled

and concern to replace

the deep scorn

of the rich, who believe

God is on their side,

who offer golden chalices

and cathedrals of crystal

to purchase

eternal life

with God, who remembers

the poor 

will fill their every

need

but sends away the rich

with nothing

no things to carry

in their powerful, sleek cars

to their empty houses

silent houses 

stony, soulless

mansions, 

nothing

but their names

on fine marble 

engraved,

yet the poor watch

and still wait.

(24 March 2014)

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)

Living Rosary

The children sit calmly

their complacent voices

monotone as a monk's chant.

They repeat the ancient words

recalling grace and courage

at the hour of death.

They really don't know

about the terror

and bliss of angelic visitation,

how a single greeting

can change everything

in a single moment dash

her young, pure heart

into the Judean dirt,

while her soul, enraptured,

soars high into the clear

desert sky. 

These are mysteries too deep

for their supple, green minds.

But I feel

in the rise and fall of their words,

her gentle acceptance

of the thrusting sword,

her transcendent smile

as the whip

tears across His tender skin,

the redemptive power of

all undeserved suffering.

These good children do as they're told

and behave well, reverently reciting

the millennial hope

on the bright gym floor,

in their school-day

morning prayer.

(1 May 2013)

Royal Presidio Chapel, Monterey California

Pelicans fly at dawn, 

Heavy, unsure of the wind, 

Their hungry cries piercing the sky

Fiercely searching receding waves. 

Ancient sorrow lingers here, 

The stunned saints with fading stigmata

Painted dimly into ever-falling shadow. 

Our Lady of Sorrows wears a black mantilla. Her

cold, glimmering hands clench 

The lace handkerchief Maria Antonia brought. 

Our Lady of Solitude pierces my soul, 

Her face shining forth from layers of death, 

Her astounding eyes glittering with living anguish.

(15 March 1979)