No earthly being will satisfy
No, not one—
Not friend, nor kin, nor any lover.
But Christ alone will quench your dry;
To Him run—
The deepest love you will discover.
– EstherV
Does your soul still swell with wonder
At the sequences in life?
Like the thrill of trembling thunder
Raging rivers running rife
Or the harmony of dissonance
An unexpected friend
Or the fearlessness of innocence
The sky without an end
Are you moved by the myriad of mysteries
That grace us — large and small
Every soul holds hidden histories—
Are you curious at all?
Have you stopped to soak in sunsets
Slept beneath His chandeliered skies
Pondered all the nows and not yets
Asked the whos, and hows, and whys?
Under a hundred years to wander
Earth’s brief map of dusk ‘til dawn
Make more minutes matter; don’t squander—
Treasure all before it’s gone.
– EstherV
When plagued with pain you
ached to retreat
to a “safer” space
{where insecurities invade
and pride prevails.}
But I saw you—how you
Stopped.
and chose to reach, and reach—
beyond the ache
to grace, to love, to hope, to hold on
to Me;
My good, My faithful—
I see You
Trying.
Through your fractured frame
I shine;
In your weakness
I AM.
– EstherV
Face-to-face
We gather
“Six feet apart”
And more
Eyes float above covered nose and mouth,
(My neighbor may not even have a nose
— I’d never know.)
Glaring across at each other
or perhaps smiling—
Who knows?
Not much to see from
Eyes upon eyes—
Expressions unrevealed
I eagerly await the Eucharist…
Life-giving, but not merely because—
Christ;
One brief glimpse at a full, naked face.
A Face!
Somehow it feels sacrilegious to look.
What a foreign, rare appearance in today’s
Masked World.
But all must undo, and
unmask
to nourish us with You.
I come
Alone and undone
Nothing hidden from your sight —
Unmask and make me new.
– EstherV
The same boy
Who, in sweet, soft tones “speaks”
And plants tender kisses on my cheeks,
Is the same boy
Who yanks the sisters’ hair
And unrelentlessly climbs the stairs.
The same boy
Who loves to sing and squeal
And throw his food on the floor at meals,
Is the same boy
Who “helps” me sweep the floors
And put the laundry back in the drawers.
The same boy
Who nurses at my heart
And calls for, “Mama” when we’re apart,
Is the same boy
Who climbs upon my back
To soothe my aches with his little whacks.
The same boy
Who peacefully now sleeps
In arms that embrace him when he weeps,
Is the same boy
Who in love was conceived
And was the size of a mustard seed.
The same boy…
Will one day be a man.
– EstherV