In deep nights I dig for you like treasure. For all I have seen that clutters the surface of my world is poor and paltry substitute for the beauty of you that has not happened yet. -Rilke, from Book of Hours: Love Poems to God ** For the season of Advent I am posting a reflection each Sunday on a theme from the lectionary readings and then during the week offering a poem each day to highlight that theme — see this past Sunday here **
Whom should I turn to, if not the one whose darkness is darker than night, the only one who keeps vigil with no candle, and is not afraid— the deep one, whose being I trust, for it breaks through the earth into trees and rises, when I bow my head, faint as a fragrance from the soil. -Rilke, from Book of Hours: Love Poems to God ** For the season of Advent I am posting a reflection each Sunday on a theme from the lectionary readings and then during the week offering a poem each day to highlight that theme —
I know that I love the day, The sun on the mountain, the Pacific Shiny and accomplishing itself in breakers, But I know I live half alive in the world, I know half my life belongs to the wild darkness. -Galway Kinnell ** For the season of Advent I am posting a reflection each Sunday on a theme from the lectionary readings and then during the week offering a poem each day to highlight that theme — see this past Sunday here **
The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the LORD and a day of vindication by our God. -Isaiah 61:1-2 The prophetic and poetic texts of the Book of Isaiah are some of my favorite of the ancient Hebrew scriptures. This is the third Sunday of Advent which is also known as Gaudete Sunday, Gaudete means rejoice in Latin. During
Journey The mouth of the river may be beautiful. It doesn’t remember the womb of its beginning. It doesn’t look back to where it’s been or wonder who ahead of it polished the rough stones. It is following the way in its fullness, now like satin, now cresting, waters meeting, kindred to travel gathered together, all knowing it flows one way, shining or in shadows. And me, the animal I ride wants to drive forward, its longing not always my own, overrunning its banks and bounds, edgeless, pilling along the way because, as I forget, it knows everything is before
life is a garden, not a road we enter and exit through the same gate wandering, where we go matters less than what we notice -Bokonon, The Lost Book There are ways, but the Way is uncharted! -Tao Te Ching ** For the season of Advent I am posting a reflection each Sunday on a theme from the lectionary readings and then during the week offering a poem each day to highlight that theme — see this past Sunday here ** ** Visit this week’s Poetry Party on the theme of Illumination **
Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road– Only wakes upon the sea. -Antonio Machado ** For the season of Advent I am posting a reflection each Sunday on a theme from the lectionary readings and then during the week offering a poem each day to highlight that theme — see this past Sunday here ** ** Visit this week’s Poetry Party on
