Sacred is found in the imperfect messy moments as well as the still moments. It’s found in the quiver of lonely lips as they try to find find words to express the unexpressable. The sacred is found in the human spirit that does not quit its search for the shimmers of grace in the midst of terror. Sacred is the longing of our souls that eventually turns holy If only we persist.
Sacred is the stars
And the fingertips that reach out
Trying to hold them
Peering up, whispering
“Do I matter?”
Sacred is the Space
That exists outside measures
Where They whisper back
Speaking gently to the stars
And the fingertips grasping
“Yes. Because you are.”
It was a sacred rain
I walked through
Even though I was
Getting wet and cold
It was a sacred rain
But not for the homeless
Or the hopeless
Just wet and dreary.
It was a sacred rain
It came from the source
Of all being
And it was necessary
For there to be life
At the bus stop someone
Shared their umbrella
With a stranger.
In the sacred rain
There was a sacred space
SACRED
thing?act?trait?curse?
oxford sez connected with god.
so.
i am sacred.
sacred is me.
(and two letters from scared)
Waking up in a home with all your loved ones still asleep
Waking up in a home with all your loved ones
Waking up in a home
Waking up
Home
Loved ones
Sleep
Sacred is found in the imperfect messy moments as well as the still moments. It’s found in the quiver of lonely lips as they try to find find words to express the unexpressable. The sacred is found in the human spirit that does not quit its search for the shimmers of grace in the midst of terror. Sacred is the longing of our souls that eventually turns holy If only we persist.
Sacred
“This is Holy Ground, so come and bow down” the lyric says
No.
This space is no longer sacred for me
But I once thought it was
‘Holy Ground’ is no longer the carpeted space during the Altar Call
‘Holy Ground’ is no longer the ‘prayer closet’
All I know is that the closest I feel to Creator is no longer at an address on Main Street
But in the woods,
by the river,
in the open field with the endless sky
The Earth—she’s sacred to me now
Sacred: an acrostic
Spaces
Agony
Confidence
Repetition
Endings
Delight
Sacred is meeting God in a gentle breeze
Sacred is knowing we stand on holy ground
Sacred is breathing in the air of our ancestors
Sacred is holding the hand of a child as we walk together
Sacred is the embrace of a love and the hug of a good friend
Sacred is the puppy wagging its tail with delight in seeing us
Sacred is the kitten purring in our lap
Sacred are the flowers that return each spring
Sacred is the circle of friends who challenge us to grow
Sacred are our brothers and sisters different from ourselves, who have so much wisdom to offer us
Sacred am I, with the breath of God within me
Breathe
Feel the Sacred Earth beneath your feet
You are held tenderly
Breathe
See the Sacred wind rustle the leaves
This is the life force
Breathe
Taste the Sacred water moisten your lips
Replenishing your flow
Breathe
Smell the Sacred fire warming your skin
Reigniting your creativity
Breathe
Hear the whispers of your Sacred soul
Aligning with the pulse of the Universe
Sacred
God touches with grace
I cared for him
not just because he was my grandfather
or because he made me power-of-attorney over my mother and her siblings
or because he was the adult male figure in my life
But because we had a connection
my aunt described it as the additional son
I see it as confidant and "running buddies" when I was a boy.
Dementia had long ago taken hold and this was his third move to higher level memory care facility
this was the hardest to see him sitting in the wheelchair mumbling silently
I am not sure he even realized someone was there
they came to get him for lunch and I headed to get mine
On the way back to continue packing
the elevator stops and the doors open
"Steve, what are you doing here?"
It is as though we went 10 years into the past
For 20 minutes we talked
I showed him a picture of his first granddaughter
"She's very beautiful"
Soon we were back in the present - him in the chair mumbling as I pack
Filled with deep gratitude and sadness
I had a feeling that was goodbye
he died two months later
There have been other sacred moments
there may even be more poems on the sacred from me
I will always cherish that sacred grace
Sacred
Stillness
A holy place
Candles lighting the darkness
Real honest truth
Entering in
Deeper
a holy place
in time or space
set aside
just for me
(and for you)
to
be
yourself
Here is a line from my poem as I write through it.
"Feeling for the warmth
and the middle way
between heaven and earth."
I seek sacred space
Beauty to envelop me
Feeling the Holy.
------
What is sacred?
Am I sacred?
My hands that paint encouragement
My eyes that see another's pain or joy
My arms that embrace
My heart and soul that worship and love
My body that comforts
These are all things I *do*
that are sacred.
What about *me*?
My whole self?
Created with exquisite care
and profound love
All of me, as a whole, is sacred.
It's hard for me to grasp.
I work to believe it.
Creation beauty all around and I can’t help but
Wonder
Bursts of wind push pond water
In gusts of ripples back across
And I’m breathing in something
Pauses fill my soul different
Here in this sacred space.
Song of the cardinal awake to the dawn
Answers to questions in the wind
Cries for justice in the middle of the day
Rest in the afternoon while we sit together
Evening brings answers
Darkness lets us start again