on that day
It all starts
before Light was visible
faithful women embracing the miserable
engaging a fateful woe from a fatal blow
to their hopes and dreams
of what they imagined could be
all they could see
was a dim pathway to a cave and a grave
all they could smell
was a mixture of spices and sorrow
hard to stomach today let alone tomorrow
an aching of emptiness consumed them
no making of sense presumed, then
but only absence of Presence
and presence of darkness
the starkness of despair permeating the air
as they entered the lair of languishing
only to find the Winds of Change
permutating their sense of what was
and what is and what could be
the Light appears
from unexpected sources
vexing their perceptions
vanquishing their fears with questions perplexing
‘why are you searching among the dead for the Living?
why is your Hope buried in dread amidst forgiving?’
and as this vision seared their seeing
and these words penetrated their hearing
all that they were fearing
entered the realm of disappearing
and empowered running and telling
of this new Reality compelling
which transcends their grieving
and even their believing
to engaging a faithful Wonder and Wisdom
a trusting beyond senses
thrusting pretenses and cautions
to those Winds of Change so very strange…
yet not surprising to be met by fearful men
surmising the tale as a fanciful fable
yet one was able to stumble his way
down the dim pathway
to a cave no longer closed
and a grave with only clothes
remaining and straining through puzzlement and amazement
then wandering home and wondering what
it all meant…
. . . . . . . . . .
in these days
It all smarts
in a space
where our hearts are heavy with hurt
and our sights are dimmed with despair
our world drenched in worry and warfare
in discord and division within systems unfair
polarizing pundits and wanna be Pilates
pontificating parables of privilege and entitlement
preying on prejudices
prancing upon populations of innocent Incarnations
dancing upon graves in plays for power
leaving us wondering where our sense of humanity or sanity
Reality or mutuality or even requital went
when residents become refugees
and Blessed Ones are left begging on hands and knees
it’s hard to hear a story of Love
embracing our fear and resurrecting our Hope
with so much disgracing defacing and displacing those so dear
it’s hard to see the Light arising
when so many Beloveds
are descending and defriending
and despising and demising…
yet not surprising to feel those Winds of Change blowing
through instruments of Peace who are facing their fears
to embody the Music of the Spheres
magnifying the Melodies
hallowing the Harmonies
reverberating the Rhythms of Justice
rushing down like an ever-rolling River
pure and clear for all to hear
friends and foes both far and near
and the Waters of Love flowing
through channels of release for all held captive
by affliction and oppression
addiction and obsession
not expecting any glory
but embodying a story
not of what we imagine to be
but of ever-present Reality
not always right before our eyes
but always deep within our minds and hearts
in our midst in the mist of present Mystery
beyond the ways that we idealize our history
and fantasize of distant days we believe
(yet deceive ourselves)
were much better spent in the daze of memory
and what we once thought
it all meant...
. . . . . . . . . .
on THIS Day
It all sparks
with the Grace
that is best seen in dark places
and most felt in stark spaces
that rumbles the Earth
enough to roll away the stones of shame that keep us trapped
in our graves of guilt as slaves to our fears
that humbles our egos
and hallows our worth
shaking us free to be able to see
that our tombs of self-dearth
are really wombs of new birth
and the Love
in the Spirit of Jesus
that eternally sees us
and descends even deeper than the shallows of death
and resurrects our Beings to recognize the Gift of each Breath
and internally frees us
to emerge from the wounds that seek to submerge us
and the pains that roar like a freight train running
thru the middle of our heads
to feed our furiosity with kindness
and our curiosity with mindfulness
to embrace our hesitations as Incarnations of compassion
and our limitations with an invitation…
to come on up for the surprising
celebration of all Creation
inclusive of all nations and stations in life
amidst all the anguish of separation and strife
whether your conspiracy is despair and fear
or Hope and Love (or a combination thereof)
regardless of your religion (or derision of the same)
or daunting indecision about who really is to blame
where the children once left behind now lead our way
out of the darkness into the healing Light
where the Space is deep and wide in welcome
for the pundit and the prophet, the Pharisee and the pauper
the divider and the provider, the defender & the pretender
the hurrier, the worrier, the wonderer, the wanderer
(none of whom are lost)
all thinking we must surrender our lives to the Divine
(when the shocking revelation
is that the Divine has already surrendered to us)
all shrinking into imagining that tramps like us
who were born to run racing in the rain
are disgracing the Planet
instead of casing the Promised Land (whether we believe in it or not)
and dancing in the dark rather than realizing
that we’re all prancing around and shining like the Sun
and in the midst of all our adversity
and all our startling diversity
we are all One…
. . . . . . . . . .
to all of us longing to come on out
from under the shipwreck of a world seemingly capsizing
and a society trapped in consumerising
and the internal and external voices
of endless criticizing and demonizing
and the deadening onslaught of losses
that are agonizing and paralyzing…
come on UP, all of us worn-down and weary
and wonderful wanderers and wonderers…
come on UP, all of us burned-out and bedraggled
and beautiful Beloveds…
come on UP, all of us exhausted embodiments of limitless Love…
come on UP for the Rising…
#1064wordprayers #Easter2022 #ThanksToTheBosses #ChristIsRisen #WeAreRisen #TheRising
('SONRISE' © Bob Mennonna)
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