Welcome to Poetry Party #70!
I select an image and suggest a theme/title and invite you to respond with your own poem. Scroll down and add it in the comments section below or join our Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group and post there.
Feel free to take your poem in any direction and then post the image and invitation on your blog (if you have one), Facebook, or Twitter, and encourage others to come join the party! (If you repost the photo, please make sure to include the credit link below it and link back to this post inviting others to join us).
We began this month with a Community Lectio Divina practice and followed up with our Photo Party on the theme of “Call to Newness.” (You are most welcome to still participate). We continue this theme in our Poetry Party this month.
The photo above was received by me this past week at Disibodenberg, the beautiful monastic ruins in Germany where Hildegard of Bingen spent the first half of her life as a Benedictine. This place formed her for all that was to come in her life. I love doorways and thresholds and how they beckon us to something new. You are invited to share a poem about the call to newness in your own life. What thresholds are shimmering?
You can post your poem either in the comment section below*or you can join our Holy Disorder of Dancing Monks Facebook group (with close to 600 members!) and post there.
*Note: If this is your first time posting, or includes a link, your comment will need to be moderated before it appears. This is to prevent spam and should be approved within 24 hours.
59 Responses
I waited until going on retreat this past week to sit down with this prompt…
O Ancient of Days —
the breeze blusters,
chill and cleansing,
through my gilt hair,
through my heart,
chasing after me
through a new threshold
of seeing Judaism
in the heart of Christ,
of seeking God
in the heard of Judaism.
Butterfly Wings
Join the elegance
that flutters a dance
new and irridescent
born into eternal space
numinous waves of
Love that Never Dies
saying yes to call
in heart in truth boldly be
sing and dance this one!
call to newness
walk softly
through the portal
open to receive
in bare feet
dance within the ancient walls
lie on mother earth
listen
let the epiphany
arise in your heart
On Newness
Newness is not new.
But I am.
And so are you.
Re-created
Each epiphany.
—-Sylvia Cummings Askey (September 2013)
Conversation of Stones within Monastery Ruins by Susan Gabriel
-–—––—————–
Cornerstone: I remember the quietude here
Hushed chanting
Candle flicker
Thick incense
Small Stone: But once the roof fell, our life changed. We could see heaven.
Clouds and stars amazed us. Birds built nests in our mortar and we became midwives.
All manner of green became our carpet and flower vines became tapestries.
We heard the songs of wind and learned the language of owls and wolves.
Cornerstone: But the idea! A sacred place without a roof.
Small Stone: Yes, no longer sacred. Now divine.
Cathedral in the Cloud Forest
The ficus sends her tendrils down
searching for sustenance
into the fecund and fertile earth;
into the clay that formed Eve.
Then rising up in the light
she reaches, interweaving, interconnected.
Again and again
she goes back to the earth
Her roots now strong,
drawing life and love
into her Cathedral.
okay submitting this with out rewriting as so tired with all this fun in Ireland, so here is my thresholds..
Wind swept long grass bends and swirls showing me the way to be.
It does not get greener then this, County Clare Ireland.
Having arrived with my heart and eyes opened, all fell into place.
Magic moments indeed, just keep happening. Flow.
St Brigid’s well covered in faces, past and present, send messages to those who enter.
I dip my hands into the sacred water and anoint myself.
Climbing the stairs up to the gravesites I hear a man holler.
Divine guidance led us to this place, for him, an elderly gentleman had fallen in, stuck.
I had lingered long enough, mesmerized by the colorful clothed trees draping above the
Wells opening and now below he was baptized and saved, I hugged him so. Attend.
Later, Doolin cave called me into her depths and I paid attention to my own needs of slowing down
One step in front of the other, arriving into the unknown made known by this expedition. Gentle.
A castle loomed in front of me and as the wedding couple descended
We ascended, camera clicking, around and around
A helix within the slate rock tower.
Descending down my body says this is enough for now,
Patiently they wait for my tremors to cease. Accept.
A path in front of me and I fly free with the hawks who land on and off of me,
Over and over again they swiftly fly and one returns with a captured bird to eat and I watch
The contrast of reality and soon we are returned to our confines. Imagine.
Night is approaching fast and warm seafood chowder, surely the best ever
Consumed at a roadside pub, “Monks” and in the haze across the bay, Galway blinks. Nurture.
Into the car, this day’s journey ends, a rainbow appears telling me
There is always more, seen and unseen showing me the way to be.
And I knew that today’s beautiful serendipities plans had all been in God’s hands. Be.
Flow. Attend. Gentle. Accept. Imagine. Nurture. Be. Ahhhh ~ breathing in these invitations.
Newsense
Together they stood on the threshold.
The young one said ‘ I see an Abbey, decayed.’
The old one looked and imagined the promise of a space repurposed.
The young one drew away from the damp odor infusing the space.
The old one stepped closer inhaling the green of new grass.
The young one heard only the whirling wind.
In stillness the old one listened to the ancient echoing chants.
Crossing the threshold, the young one reached out, touching the craggy remains, naming them ruins.
The old one followed, caressing her skin deep with wrinkled crevices, anticipating the yet-to-be holy moments on her horizon.
The young one, impatient now from time in the sun, hungered.
The old one paused, smiling as she beckoned, ‘Taste and see God’s creation is good, manna for the spirit, making all things new.’
I am tasting and seeing God’s goodness through your poem. Thank you. :)
What truths within these walls remain?
Each stone a silent prayer.
The imprint of a soul’s desire
Forever lingers there.
What hopes are buried in the earth
Beneath the mossy green?
Each footprint left its signature
And energy unseen.
What invitation beckons us
Through entrance arched in stone?
It calls to all humanity
Yet we must pass through alone.
The vision we behold
Is of a sacred place.
Now looking deep within
We see our holy face.
I appreciate the questions you offer here, Marcia.