on Holiness

Summer in the midwest is my favorite time. The world is so alive, then, the wind tosses the trees and brings the rain, it sends them away and the sun sets and the world turns golden. It gets me to thinking of holiness, of the Spirit running with whispering feet over the fields bringing fruitfulness and life. And I find that such beauty, in nature, singing calls me into some of the holiest moments I have known.

And so, my question.

Perhaps yours has nothing to do with beauty, or everything to do with it. It doesn't really matter. You could write it poetry or prose, about the darkness of 5am or the brilliance of a summer sunset, but my question is this:
what has been one of the holiest moments of your life?

~j.l.s.

on Hummingbirds and Signs

     Aliza and I ended up on the same poem prompt through conversation. After about fifteen minutes with the same prompt, here's what we came up with.

Sat Still Long Enough

I think I saw you(the hummingbird sat still)long enough
to see that
there are branches to sit on
also branches
also sitting.

So please lead me along with an augury that doesn't rely on myself
(I'll fly south with my eyes wide open the entire way).

I'll make my nest in a field
still
enough

to house swallows,
also snakes,
also myself.

And You.

-a.g.s.

Augury and Oracles

I never expected signs

did not need them

I learned independence in the dark

and assurance in solitude

never doubting, firm as a rock

how extravagant then, that you

in the afternoon light

would wreck me with augury

and with the tiniest of birds

I should be overwhelmed.

that a thousand winging thrills

and a flash of ruby red

should over and again be

the feathered providence

      of tender grace. 

~j.l.s.

In which I am posing a question in the form of a prayer

You, Christ, use things to fill me up; the sound of bells distant and golden sunshine illuminating the green trees, a hummingbird, a conversation, piano music spreading over the hall. Are they your way of filling and sustaining me? Ought I not to be satisfied in you alone? Should those external things seem so to fill me and be drips of the waterfall where I hold my cup? Are they your way of showing me your quiet and overflowing beauty in abundant measure, the brimming-ness of your character? Or is it just me delighting and wondering in the creation rather than the Creator to whom I owe all affection, devotion, adoration, delight, praise and attention?

Am I right to see such moments as a filling up; giving thanks to you for them as your provision? Or do I mistake them for more than simply the ordinary?

~

How do you know when you have gotten stuck on the beauty of the creation and failed to ascend to worshiping the beauty of its Creator?

go out

there may be eighty seven

ragged souls in this loud room

how many known?

Not even one

not even completely

Look at their faces

caught unawares

at rest

hopeful or weary

peaceful or pain-full

it’s in the eyes,

gleams like fire caught flickering

rosy dawn shimmering

wild storm flashes

high-tossing waves.

Can I dare to look and see?

go outside the limp shape

that is my own soul and try

to see the shape of another?

Australia

Faces tanned and angled
by the fingertips of the land
dragged across bright eyes
and thin-curved lips-
the red rich dirt
the fertility of the earth
has settled into the soul of these people,
themselves soujourners
in this land which flows
with gold and honey.

-r.b.