Everlasting fire

Fire burns
With hungry horror
Devouring the hell-bound.
Fire burns
Bright as a beacon
Among the souls
Of purgatory
Fire burns
With divine glory
Consuming the saints
In radiant bliss.

Thoughts on a parable

Once fearful I buried my small coin
and quenched the song within my heart,
but songs unsung are a bitter weight,
and gifts change to dust when left apart.

Once too bold I shouted my own tune,
for coins will spend for good or ill,
until I saw how tarnished they grew --
those few worthless coins outside His will.

Fearful still, I've opened wide this purse
for the coins you give us must be spent.
I cast them upon the wind and pray
you will bless with grace my poor intent.

At the hour of our death

Here on the thin cusp
between life and death
where the failing light
falls into darkness
a voice is praying
--soft and sweet and pure --
a mother watching,
guiding each child home.

Transformed by the Eucharist

Like a spring surges
out of dry and barren ground
grace surges from our hearts.

Once a wall

Once a wall climbed to heaven.
Again and again my prayers struck it.
Not one of them could get through.
Once a wall blocked the highway
others traveled without care.
I ran into it full tilt.
Rock solid, it would not yield.
My tears could not budge one stone.
At last, battered and bleeding
I limped away in despair.
"Why are you silent?" I asked.
"Why won't you open to me?"
The desert swallowed me up,
dry years parched with endless thirst.
Yet I caught glimpses of you
like a mirage, leading still.
You were there, you brought me through.
The wall is gone. Others walk
the path, singing out their joy.
An altar awaits me now
and you, come down to feed me.