The Feast of Saint John, the Baptist

A Homily

John came, and john bore witness to the light
John, born in darkness as all of us are
John saw the light, shing in the deep night
Comforted by its warmth, John felt it first
Feeling it while he was still in the womb
Kicking in the waters, as the light dawned

John was not a man prone to vanity
You would not have seen him chasing the wind
Like a servant, John harvested honey
Faithful to the way, not puffed up with pride
John was a friend and brother to Jesus
The elder cousin of the messiah

Herald and prophet, man of the desert
John turned to us, saying reflect, repent
He came like an angel, with a pure heart
A divine messenger, pointing the way
The way is not in stillness or silence
The way is a path of service and love

He took on the burden and paid the price
John showed us how to stand against power
He came into the world ahead of Christ
Drawing breath while he listened in the womb
The breath he drew was ruha, the spirit
Holy Sophia filled John with wisdom
.
John lived and breathed, washed in the divine flame
Dipping his cup in the fountain of life
Walking with him, by whom all things were made
John’s path was the way of humility
Obedient, unphased by paradox
Born first, and the first to be sacrificed

He lived by the Jordan, serving the light
Not perplexed, or tempted to turn away
He saw in his cousin the end of night
He made a place for him in the desert
He prepared the way as God’s own herald
Ministering to the sick and grieving

Jesus and John. the Son and the herald
Working together in the name of God
Baptizing all into the way of peace
Bathing their flock in the way, in the light
Keeping to their mission even to death
John showed us the way, turn and be blessed!

John the Baptist

 
From the Gospel According to Mark – 2018.06.22

Jennifer – Five Thirteen

Jennifer is she
Bright as a morning in May
Sensual and sweet

A light in the dark
My warming breeze in winter
February’s love

Freckles, and green eyes
Her flashing smile lights my heart
As the sun in spring

Clear as the bright stream
Swift as the rising moon, cool
In the evening

She listens to me
Sheltering my hopes, and dreams
Believing in me

Two times every day
I look to the clock for luck
It is five thirteen

She is strong, and fierce
Leaning on her when I’m tired
Then she carries me

Touching me with light
Vulnerable, undaunted
Speaking with her tears

Six years of loving
Kind and caring Valentine
Jennifer is she

The Muse

I love you, he says
Confused, stumbling over words
Prayerful supplicant

I seek clarity
Whispers the poet, and wisdom
She smiles invitingly

Red lips part slightly
Revealing sharp teeth, bright-white
Like diamonds flashing

Lead me to the truth
By your beauty, and goodness
Your willing servant, I

He says, withdrawing
Drugged as the lotus eaters
Hallucinating

She opens her eyes
Deep-blue pools, like cobalt fire
Burning without light

She embraces him
The wretched poet, victim
Drowning in the night

Burned

I stood on the edge of a great mountain
I bathed in streams of snowmelt, cold and clear
My lungs like a bellows, pumping my heart
I lived in a world of little oxygen
I contemplated deep philosophies
There were no mysteries to challenge me
I spoke to God, and god spoke back to me
The divine word, resounding in the light
I looked down on the people with despair
I despised them, the unworthy masses

I cut my leg on a sharp stone, and fell
A pathogen set in, and I grew ill
My wound became discolored, infected
It crawled up my veins in jagged red streaks
I needed antibiotics. doctors
Despite my constitution, I would die
I was afraid for my life, mortified
By the ease with which I was struck down
I lost the mastery of my ego
My self-satisfaction turned to loathing

I was afraid, now, of death and darkness
Fever and pneumonia nearly took me
My powerful lungs, turned to feeble sacks
My muscles became flaccid, I was lost
I lived in a wheelchair, I could not work
I had no skills, I became dependent
I stewed in contempt, bewailing my fate
My lost holiness, my former station
I waited for the god I once walked with
To lift me from this world, to transform me

I became obsequious and grateful
For the few coins that were dropped in my cup
For the small sum of funds given to me
Deposited each month in my mailbox
I discovered the vice of alcohol
I measured a new form of endurance
How many days and nights could I stay drunk
I lost the bet, and died in an alley
I fell from my wheelchair with the garbage
Face down in my filth and my excrement

My spirit rose, lifting from the valley
I saw my mountain tall and forbidding
I cringed as I ascended, fearing God
Soiled as I was, and miserable
Broken as I was, unwashed, unshriven
I rose past the cold peak of my mountain
Rising higher than I had ever dreamed
The bright sun touched me with its tongues of fire
I was burned…burned alive, I was burned clean
By the brilliance of the spirit, love

Saint Valentine’s Day

Jennifer is she
Bright as a morning in May
Sensual and sweet

A light in the dark
My warming breeze in winter
February’s love

Freckles, and green eyes
Her flashing smile lights my heart
As the sun in spring

Clear as the bright stream
Swift as the rising moon, cool
In the evening

She listens to me
Sheltering my hopes, and dreams
Believing in me

She is strong, and fierce
I lean on her when I’m tired
And she carries me

Six years of loving
Kind and caring Valentine
Jennifer is she

Observation – January 5th, 2020, Sunday

The sky is bright, light
Blueish-gray, matted by clouds
Thin as wisps of frost

There are a few leaves
Dried things that cling to the trees
Flutter in the breeze

Outside my window
Dark limbs stretched across the pane
The old glass cascades

It bends the soft light
Waving in its fluid state
Windows on the world

Observation – December 4th, 2019, Wednesday

Observation
The sun is shining

The snow is already melting in the light

It is warm this December morning

Everything is blurry outside my window

My eyes are still adjusting to the surgery I had

I can hear the spray from the tires of the cars passing by

Dirty-gray slush and salt covering the street

There is ice on the road and it is slippery

There is not a cloud in the sky

Only jets leaving contrails

And black-birds in flight