Vine

As Eve and Adam ate and fell,
all swallowed by the gates of death,
their children in its shadow dwell:
The teeth of hell are locked and clenched.

Woe for the fruit that passed our lips!
Oh, that we would have kept our fast!
What would we give for one small sip
of Eden's streams—but they are past.

So we become the meat and drink
that gluts the hungry maw of death
yet never fills it to the brink.
If it could, death would swallow heav'n.

O Christ, whose fall was marked by ours,
you came to be death's bread and wine.
It swallowed you down, soul and scars,
and up you sprouted like a vine.

Around the gateposts then you wound,
your living bursting from the dead.
The gates of hell came crashing down,
and death was choked by wine and bread.

Out of the garden, you, firstfruits,
took Eve and Adam from the ground,
not broken reeds but living shoots,
and brought them where the sun shines out.

Now Christ the sower, Christ the seed,
you bear us on your upward climb
to where the harvest ever feeds
on heaven's living bread and wine.

Convolvulus vine twining around a steel fixed ladder By Namazu-tron – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7282183

Waves

I was not there to watch you shut
the sea within its doors,
to see you lift the mountains up
and bind the earth with shores,
but I have seen the ocean swells
rise up and break and fall,
that something of your mercy tells
beneath the gull's wild call.

For we are past the solstice now,
and summer's hold must break
though cruelty will have its hour
and Pharaoh holds his sway.
They rise and grow; they crash and sink
like waves upon the shore.
There is a time for everything—
so peace will come once more.

You set the limits of the sea
and you can part its waves,
just as you set the pris'ners free
and open up our graves.
You cast the mighty from their thrones
to crash upon the sands:
Though now we walk through waves unknown,
we still are in your hands.

Breaking wave in Porto Covo, Portugal By Alvesgaspar – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36434062

Morsel

Riffing on Psalm 139 and food:

Lord, you search me, plumb me down to atoms,
dive into me, know the deepest fathoms.
Every moment, resting, reaping, rising,
every thought before my heart's devising,
every step is known ere I begin it.
Every breath I take, you are within it.

I could run, but I would not escape you;
shut the door, but still your light would break through.
I could climb a ladder to the heavens:
You would be on every rung ascending.
Though I turn and leave you far behind me,
even in the depths of hell you'd find me.

You know what I do before I will it,
know my every need—then, Lord, come fill it.
See my hands are lying empty, open;
see them take the bread this world has broken.
You, who even at the farthest shores dwell,
come be present in the smallest morsel.

Bless the gifts of rain and sun and labor;
bless me; make me kith and kin and neighbor.
We all know the taste of hope and hunger:
You know all of us, above and under,
everywhere we run, to west and easting.
Bring us all, then, safe into your feasting.

Hands at the Cuevas de las Manos upon Río Pinturas, near the town of Perito Moreno in Santa Cruz Province, Argentina. Picture By Mariano – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=265811

Peace

Combining Psalm 85 and Mark 6:

The place where truth and kindness meet
and justice joins itself to peace,
where truth springs up and right rains down,
is in your body, pierced and crowned.

For you made the divided one;
all earth and heaven in you join.
In you, O Lord, our peace is made.
Help us in making peace today.

With walking stick and sandal-shod,
we go to seek the reign of God.
Our money will not pave the road,
so free our shoulders from that load.

O Shepherd, lead us on the way
and give us words to tell your praise.
Give us still more the grace of tears
to name our weaknesses and fears.

And give us mercy over all:
Forgive us as we fail and fall,
then lift us, ever lift us up
to drink again the saving cup.

You are the way; you are the road,
but we have still so far to go.
Help us to choose the better part
and draw yet closer to your heart

for there alone does justice meet
and kiss its sister, truest peace.
Lord, show us mercy once again,
and grant salvation's sweet Amen.

Justitia et pax – Brescia – Pinacoteca Tosio-Martinengo – 13-4-2002 By anonymous – Own work, Giovanni Dall’Orto, 13-4-2002, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=641316

Isaiah

In the year King Uzziah died,
I saw the Lord seated on a high and lofty throne,
with the train of his garment filling the temple.
Seraphim were stationed above; each of them had six wings:
with two they veiled their faces,
with two they veiled their feet,
and with two they hovered aloft.

—Isaiah 6:1-8

“The earth is filled with glory,”
the hosts of heaven cried,
“Oh, holy, holy, holy!”
in the year Uzziah died.

And oh, the doorframe trembled;
the air filled up with smoke,
for God is in his temple.
The seraphim had spoke!

But I cried out in terror
and I cried out once more
as loud as any seraph,
for I had seen the Lord.

“Depart from me, my savior,
for I am all unclean!”
But came an ember flaming
that burned away my sin.

Then God said, “Who is for us?
What herald shall I send
to sing this glory chorus
to all the earth's far ends?”

And I cried out, “I'm here, Lord!”
And I cried out, “Send me!”
And I went crying forward
to tell what I had seen:

That God is in his temple
and none escape his sight.
But take the flaming ember
and swallow down its light

and fill the earth with glory
from inland to the coast.
Cry “Holy, holy, holy
is God the lord of hosts!”

Isaiah, fresco painted by Michelangelo and his assistants for the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican between 1508 to 1512 – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2776989

Damascus

I'm not going to Damascus;
I won't see a blinding light,
but you'll knock me on my ass yet
for the scales upon my eyes.

I'll be sitting by the roadside
like a beggar, blind and deaf,
when you've turned my day to soul's night,
shown me I have nothing left.

Though I set your praise resounding,
still I haven't got my sight.
O my shepherd, you have found me,
but you cannot leave me blind.

When you take what I hold sacred,
you will tear it all apart.
Write a truer word to save me
on the tablet of my heart.

As my blood runs through the letters
it will fill my ears and eyes.
I will see the whole world better
when you've given me my sight.

Though I'm lost and I have fallen,
though I cannot find my way,
let the light come when you call it.
Let me see your dawning day.

Conversion on the Way to Damascus, Caravaggio (c.1600-1) – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15219516

Loaves

All I have is just a little bit of bread;
all I bring you is a couple bites of fish.
This is nothing to the need that must be fed,
but take it, and do with it what you wish.

When you take what I have given, I will sing.
When you break what I have worked for, I will pray.
I will not hold back—I'll bring you everything.
All I have, O God, is only what you gave.

When the little that is mine becomes your own,
like this little bread and wine that you have blessed,
all the miracles in every seed we've sown
they blossom, Lord, and we become your guests.

If you will it, bless the fish and bless the loaves.
Take the crumbled pieces; scatter them like seeds
so to feed our souls and feed our bodies both,
and bless the harvest even from the weeds.

Loaves and fish, painting from the Catacomb of Callixtus. Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=566678

Thorns

That I, Paul, might not become too elated,
because of the abundance of the revelations,
a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan,
to beat me, to keep me from being too elated.
Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me,
but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is made perfect in weakness.”
I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses,
in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.
Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults,
hardships, persecutions, and constraints,
for the sake of Christ;
for when I am weak, then I am strong.
—2 Corinthians 12:7-10

What if the wounds are not like yours,
not scourges, nails, and crown of thorns,
not arrows shot by someone else,
but thorns that grow within my flesh?

Not persecution for your name,
but merely weakness, merely shame?
Can even these poor piercings be
like yours in somehow saving me?

For, Shepherd, see my fleece stained red
from thorns I grow and cannot shed.
Is there still mercy you can grant
if I cannot uproot their plant?

Not by a strength of arm or sword
or show of might were you made Lord,
but riding on an ass and meek
you conquered death when you were weak.

Then let my weakness be as yours
that fell and trampled down death's doors.
Let me accept this death itself
that grows within my very flesh.

Not my strength, then, but yours shall raise
this weak and wounded lamb to grace.
Sufficient is your grace, your love.
My Lord, my God, it is enough.

Barbed branch of wild blackberry (Rubus fruticosus) in Norrkila, Lysekil Municipality, Sweden. By W.carter – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=107504307

Shadows Yet Unseen

Entered in a contest; did not win. To the tune CONDITOR ALME SIDERUM (“Creator of the Stars of Night”):

Creator of the stars of night
and of the sunbeam daily bright,
of every glint and grade between,
all the shadows yet unseen,

we praise you for the light of day,
for colors bright and shades of gray.
We praise you for each shining star
and all the darknesses there are.

Beyond all colors though you dwell,
each one some hint of you can tell.
Teach us to read the mystery
in every glimmer that we see.

And when all vision falls behind,
still more your glories we shall find
where all our words to silence fall,
for we could never name them all.

Yet here and now your mercy's this:
You show yourself in all that is.
This wondrous multiplicity
is one in your infinity.

Praise God dividing night from day,
and God who on the waters played,
and God who in creation dwells,
more praise than we can ever tell!

The image is from the European Space Agency. It is listed as the LH 95 star forming region of the Large Magellanic Cloud. The image was taken using the Hubble Space Telescope. By ESA/Hubble, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8788068

Beatitude

Beatitudes, on the Fourth of July:

O, bless the poor in spirit, Lord,
with kingdoms at their feet,
and bless all who are simply poor:
Lay out for them your feast.

Bless, too, the hands that are not full,
who hunger and who thirst:
For them, let justice' waters roll
and every dam be burst.

And bless all those who mourn and weep:
Pour comforts in their hands.
And bless the humble and the meek:
Give them, at last, the land,

for we have had the rich and great,
and well we know their might,
but now the hour is getting late
and swiftly goes the light.

Give us the kingdom that we need
on earth as 'tis in heav'n.
Help us forgive—O, set us free!—
that we may be forgiv'n.

So teach us to be merciful
that we may mercy know,
to make the kingdom peaceable
and see you ever close. Amen.

Église Saint Aloyse béatitude 1 Photo By Sicarov – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=149373090