“Out of the silence, Light is spoken.” Thomas Merton
I walk
into the morning.
Birds
drowse
in the dark,
an unseen breeze
strokes my
arms, my bare neck,
as two cranes
over the edge
of the meadow
rise
as the Holy Spirit
moans
in tones
of morning light.
“We do not see the Blinding One in black emptiness. He speaks to us gently; His light is one fullness and one Wisdom.” Thomas Merton
Do not gaze into the night.
He is not in the cold wind
tearing at tender leaves.
No, nor does He live
on the mountain of thunder
nor on the crashing shore
where the surf pounds
time on rocks as old
rhythm itself;
You’ll not
find Him
in the piercing cries
of the children
of Syria;
but in your own
brilliant darkness
washed clean
by your tears
there you will find Him:
gentle, and full,
and wise.
I know you stroll
beyond Andromeda
gazing on Magellanic Clouds,
but I cannot see that far.
I am stardust
to Earth-fallen.
Yet I seek you in the autumn rain,
hear you singing in the evening wind.
Your breath fills my empty lungs,
your smile lights
my darkened eyes,
and my heart overflows
with your sacred blood —
love spilling,
Earth-fulfilling.
Over bright fields
we fly.
Thin slips
of consciousness,
bounded by darkness,
we rise
on our song’s
golden glow,
not knowing
how descends
the growing edge
of nothing.
(7 July 2012)
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)
Photo by Brian Federle: Seagull, New Brighton Beach, 2009
“Once we enter again into contact with our own deepest self, with an ordinate self-love that is inseparable from the love of God and of His truth, we discover that all good develops from within us, growing up from the hidden depths of our being according to the concrete and existential norms laid down by the Spirit Who is given us from God. “ Thomas Merton, The New Man
Go beyond
the surface
of things,
deeper
than thin soil
fecund
in the rain,
but dried to dust
by the summer wind.
Dive head first
into the darkness;
have faith
that someone
will catch you,
that you will
spash into
a warm sea,
that a strong hand
will reach out
and save
your life.
If you wait
for proof
you will find only
a solid stone
at your core.
Death
is like that…
facts dash
your brains,
bring you
to the edge
of nothing.
But faith
will lift you
beyond
your limitations,
will bear you up
on golden wings,
make of you
the Royal Ordinate
of time and space
and you will dance
to the music
of the spheres,
as without fear
you reach out
to your Beloved,
the Abscissa
of the soul.
**********************************
Author’s Note: In mathematics, ordinate refers to that element of an ordered pair which is plotted on the vertical axis of a two-dimensional Cartesian coordinate system, as opposed to the abscissa. on a graph, the “x” coordinate rises or falls on the vertical line, but never moves forward. Alone, it is doomed to fail, to fall to its eventual death because things that do not move forward always die. But with its abscissa, it has forward movement… purpose… life… and can continue to soar into the ether. I am not good at math but quite good at seeing things.
“He does not need our sacrifices,
He asks for our selves.”
Thomas Merton, No Man is an Island
Your sacrifice is like
the breath
of the sparrow
in the roiling storm.
It is not needed
but pleasing in its
simplicity.
When you peel away
your small, feathered
soul, when
you stretch your thin
lungs to sing
your hymn of self-
immolation,
remember that
it is not necessary,
no, not at all,
but still pleasing is
the purity of
your song.
(25 Feb 2012)
Photo Brian Federle: Overcast in Oregon, 2008
Faith
is seeing my blood
coursing through
shut eyelids
and feeling
blood pushing down
into my arms and legs,
believing
it will soon return
to my darkly
beating heart.
But faith is more than
seeing
or believing.
Faith shines
like the cloistered sun
concealed by thick
autumn clouds.
Faith knows
all my childish lies,
and gently laughs
at my innocence.
Faith stalks me,
deep into my desert
where, trembling,
I wait for her famished arrow.
I love faith;
in her passionate embrace
I fall into my
darkest night.
I fear faith;
slave to her lacerating truth
reluctantly I walk
into her relentless light.
“It might be good to open our eyes and see.” Thomas Merton
ore’ shading trees’
hanging leaves cast
green sheen on waters,
on the deep
unbroken mirror
when, rising from night
it breaks lightning
and draws first breath
of thin air –
and, discovery made,
falls back
into the cool
watery shade.
In the psalms of night birds
in the bright morning trees,
I hear your song echoing,
overwhelming me.
Always above me,
around and below,
inside me your love’s
a constant glow.
In warm summer’s ocean,
in the soft breath of night
I sway in the rhythm
of passionate life.
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