Where we walked

"Yet where we walked the city's street that night

Felt in our feet the singing fire of spring,

And in our path we left a trail of light

Soft as the phosphorescence of the sea

When night submerges in the vessel's wake

A heaven of unborn evanescent stars."

--from From the Sea by Sara Teasdale

Buried treasure

"The tender friendships one gives up, on parting, leave their bite on the heart, but also a curious feeling of a treasure somewhere buried."

--Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Passing through the penumbra*

I see you there
in shadowed space,
midst dark and light--
eclipsed;
day and night a tunnel
where you find yourself
since you lost your way.
There is light ahead,
but how to find it?
I'll show you
if you'll let me go
past the shadows.

.*penumbra--a partial shadow, as in an eclipse, between regions of complete shadow and complete illumination.
(Originally posted on January 12, 2009)

Dimidium animae meae

I am myself once again.
The girl of long ago and far away
is here and now.
But is there more to this story?
I must read on.
These fairy tales always have
a happy ending,
after the test.
How strange to feel whole
if I am really half.

(Originally published on January 9, 2009)

Once we were

Once we were as children playing,
basking in the innocence of life
which God had given to us:
living in the brightness
of the joy that we had found
in just being who we were.
Such sparkling days,
where past and future
became our happy present!
The sun shone brightly;
all was fair for you and me:
and we were there.

Then one Summer day,
I turned around to find that
you were nowhere to be seen;
and when I called your name
it echoed through the emptiness
of where we'd been before
but would not be again.

And looking back once more,
I think it was a dream,
but that isn't how I feel.
In my heart I know
that we were there,
and I know that
we were real.

Surely

“You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.”

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The suitor

He is coming on the feast

of Saint Valentine--

his choice, not mine,

of days for meeting

face to face.

The place, the day,

are both arranged

and so the suitor

makes his way

to me.



Time always tells,

and we shall see.

But this I know:

I am no one's thrall.

I will choose

to whom I give my hand,

my heart--

if at all.

(first published on January 25, 2009)

I canna pray without thee

"Come here to me, thou lass o' my love,
Come here and kneel wi' me;
The morn is fu' o' the presence o' God,
And I canna pray without thee.

The morn-wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new flowers,
The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie;
Our gudeman leans owre his kale-yard dyke,
And a blithe auld bodie is he.
The Beuk maun be ta'en when the carle comes hame,
Wi' the holie psalmodie,
And thou maun speak o' me to thy God,
And I will speak o' thee."
 
--Allan Cunningham

Flying Dreams

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTlRrgE8wWM

Sweet Orb of Night

Sweet orb of night! I saw thee rise

In cloudless lustre o'er the plain;

I saw thee climb the azure skies,

With radiant splendours in thy train:

I marked thy mildly pensive beam

At midnight's still and hallowed hour;

I watched the fitful, lonely gleam

That played on yonder ivied tower.



Sweet orb of night! I often love

When day with all its cares is o'er,

To wander in the silent grove,

And there the Source of Light adore:

O then, how false all else appears,

While wrapt in awe thy course I view,

And see thee mount the starry spheres,

And tread the fields of heavenly blue!

--William B. Tappan

Our Share of Night to Bear

Our share of night to bear,

Our share of morning,

Our blank in bliss to fill,

Our blank in scorning.



Here a star, and there a star,

Some lose their way.

Here a mist, and there a mist,

Afterwards -- day!

--Emily Dickinson

In Caritate Non Ficta: Novena to Our Lady of Lourdes and Saint Bernadette

In Caritate Non Ficta: Novena to Our Lady of Lourdes and Saint Bernadette

Will I ever tell you?

Dream of now, dream of then.

Dream of a love song that might have been.

Do I love you?

Oh, yes, I love you.

And I'll bravely tell you

But only when we dream again.

Sweet and low, sweet and low,

How sweet that mem'ry, how long ago!

Forever?

Oh, yes, forever.

Will I ever tell you?

Ah-- no.

--from The Music Man