WHEN HUNG OVER

Bridge crossing

Bridge crossing (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

A gloom hung about over her head like a constant grey cloud nothing like a hangover but more a sense of, well, gloom since the prognosis

A sense of her cross coming shortly to its end

A sense of doom

And always when her head hung heavy with a burden she couldn’t handle like when she couldn’t bring herself to face the day she would turn to Him

When she couldn’t bear to face the day

And only then would she turn to the man hung on a cross seeking His mediation – it was when she no longer could, well, face the day

The man hanging too on a cross

The one she trusted over and over and now yet again who would reach down to say, come

It is going to be all right, hang in with me

Giving her something to grasp at, a tortured arm to cling to, to trust that there was nothing in all the pain

Nothing at all in the pain

The pain that was an illusion

© Millicent Danker
27 March 2013

“May your good …

Etching: Guardian angel

Etching: Guardian angel (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“May your good guardian angel always watch over you; may he be your guide on the bitter paths of life …. Have great devotion … to this good angel; how consoling it is to know that near us is a spirit who, from the cradle to the tomb, does not leave us even for an instant …. And this heavenly spirit guides and protects us like a friend, a brother …. Turn to him in times of supreme anxiety, and you will experience his beneficial help.” – Padre Pio, Letters, Vol. 3, 84-85

“For lo, the wi…

English: The Song of Songs (1853) by Gustave M...

English: The Song of Songs (1853) by Gustave Moreau, Oil on canvas, 319 x 300 cm, Musee des Beaux-Arts de Dijon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” – Song of Songs 2:11-12

ALONENESS

Hindus believe the self or soul (atman) repeat...

Hindus believe the self or soul (atman) repeatedly takes on a physical body. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Risen above the noise, the grind
of café machines and murmurs
the scraping of chairs and whine
of fussing toddlers
the awful wallop of beebop
the hums, the ums
the chattering mums

Reading, staring, being
in touch with my Atman;*
Supreme and sanctified
by sacred scripture and chant
I am not part of the plan
Alone yet not, blessed
with detachment

my latté cold and lifeless

while my spirit rises

* the breath; the self

© Millicent Danker
15 August 2000

HE


He who painted rainbows and sunsets, provoked earthquakes and volcanoes

He who designed red roses and blue violets, butterflies and mosquitoes

Qantab - The Symphony of Rocks . . .

 The Symphony of Rocks . . . (Photo credit: Beauty Eye)

He who composed the Ode to the Forest, Dance of the Sky and Symphony of the Sea

He who made the seasons flow one into another, effortlessly

He who stills the fires and storms, washes the earth and waters its crops

He who brings forth fruit, feeds the reptiles, lets waterfalls drop

He who nurtures baby sparrows and teaches fish how to swim

He who never ceases to toil, keep creatures in check and the world trim

He who made this universe   all things great and small

the heaven and the hell      the sound in every bell

made me.

© Millicent Danker
25 May 2008