Bury me by the river,
Though I hope to be heaven-bound.
If there are rivers in heaven,
They’ll be peaceful, and broad, and sound.
The water brings deep refreshment,
Its lapping, a spirit of calm.
When the saints go down to the river,
There will be a glorious song.
Oh, bury me by the river,
And I’ll think of you in my new home,
And pray for your peace and protection,
As through life’s trials you roam.
Outdoors we gather, amongst the silent graves,
Bedecked with flags, each soldier’s resting place.
I sit in silence, waiting for Mass to begin;
Unearthly cicada sounds, the only din.
Just before, sev’n planes flew overhead,
Not to bomb, but to plume their smoke instead.
The bagpipes played “Amazing Grace” —
I weep, but not just grieving tears —
There’s joy that soldiers may be in a better place,
Taking advantage of God’s grace.
I have no words for those who were so brave,
Or perhaps unwittingly went to grave.
I cry for all the lost and all the dead,
For any harmed by war’s sick dread.
The sun, the warmth, is healing on my skin.
I pray, that through our pain, we all will heal again.
A poet wrote that ships must go
Upon the rough or glassy sea —
Not for the harbor always meant,
Not always safe a ship can be.
The times of calm — they do not last;
The tensions slowly build.
The heat, the cold, the rising wind,
The air with turmoil filled.
And so, in life, do not expect
Peace, tranquility, forever calm.
A balancing, a reckoning,
Is necessary as the dawn.
A storm in life, between two souls,
Can happen, just to clear the air.
Imperfect people, inevitably,
Will find they can’t always agree.
So do not ask for constant calm,
Nor constant storm, if that’s your joy,
But grace to bear whate’er may come —
The heat, the cold, and sometimes storm.
All the world seems strange to me,
And stranger still, as time goes on.
Don’t understand the wheres, the whys,
The truths, the lies.
The world towards madness quickly flies,
And little do I understand.
There must exist a better world –
To God, I cry.
It seemed in childhood that I knew
A better world of hope and trust.
The Lord said, “Be as children now.” –
I will; I must.
In His own world, in His own way
Lies sanity, and healing balm.
In silence do I sense His words
Bring peace, bring calm.
“Wish you were here” can be trite but true.
Writing a postcard means I thought of you.
But it could mean more —
Will you believe that’s true?
I’m wishing you the quiet
Of a warm September night,
I’m wishing you the rest and hope
Of a life with burdens light.
I’m wishing that — you find your dreams,
A childlike faith, some innocence returned,
New horizons, happy schemes,
And healing — if your heart’s been burned.
If there’s a way to give my self,
To help another’s life have peace,
Lord, let me find it, then I’ll be
Myself unburdened, truly free.
Every place
Has its ups and downs —
The smiles and the frowns,
The spooks and the clowns,
Disgraces or crowns.
You’ll find
Snakes or bugs,
Scorpions or slugs,
Crows or eagles,
Mosquitos or seagulls.
Every place
Has climate and weather,
The storms and the thunder,
Hurricanes or earthquakes,
Humidity or drought.
Every place
Has interesting neighbors
Who do you kind favors,
They help with their labors,
And pick up your papers.
Every place
Has frowning faces —
Won’t give you the time,
To judgment inclined,
Won’t lend you a dime.
Every place
Has pleasures and dangers —
Or are they both one?
Pleasure can be danger
If overdone.
Every life
Has its moments
Of goodness and closeness,
Of fear or of faith,
Of love or of hate.
O Lord,
Give me hope,
So with life I can cope —
To keep a deep peace
As my faith You increase.
Blessed night
Stars are bright
Calming silence
Peaceful quietness
Sleep so softly
Clouds are lofty
Gentle rain
Song’s refrain
Birds sing brightly
Sky is lightening
Dawn begins
Joy within
The mighty eagle spreads its wings.
Upon the waves of wind it sings.
Through mountains, valleys, low and high,
It touches earth; it touches sky.
How will I find the peace I crave?
I must be strong; I must be brave.
From worldly rage, beyond control,
I must protect my living soul.
The mighty eagle spreads its wings;
In storm or sun, its call still rings.
Through mountains, valleys, low and high,
Glides undisturbed in raptured sky.
(with Tom Rodeheffer)
(Based on Ephesians 6:10-17)
Dear Lord,
Please gird my loins with Your truth,
Please grant me the breastplate of Your righteousness,
Let me walk in the readiness of the shoes of the gospel of peace,
And let me carry the shield of faith in You;
Let it extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.
With the helmet of Your salvation,
Protect me from lies, half-truths, falsehoods, and deceptions,
From fear, worry, negativity, and anxiety,
From pride, arrogance, prejudice, and taking offense.
Grant me, Lord, protection from
Depression, discouragement, dejection, desperation, and despair.
And I ask for the sword of Your Spirit,
Which is Your Word.
Let me read it, re-read it, memorize it,
Chew on it, meditate on it,
Swallow it, digest it, and contemplate it.
Let me sing it out, shout it out,
Proclaim it and acclaim it,
But most of all, help me to LIVE Your Word.
Amen.
The air —
Laden with care —
With guilts, not graces,
With long-gone places,
With regrets, what-ifs,
With laundry lists.
And then —
A gust of wind —
The Spirit comes
And speaks in tongues,
Slamming doors,
Awakening snores.
The lightning strikes —
And thunder rumbles —
The tension crumbles.
Then sweet release
Of pent-up rain —
God comes again.
His tender care
Dispels all fear.
All will be well,
All will be well.
clarakatalin 