A Poet's Holy Muse

Spring alternately bristled and curtsied this week. 

Cutting, crisp winds with rain and intermittent low temps one moment, 

upstaged by bold rays of sun the next day, 

teasing our trees and budding bulbs to release their fragile blooms.

Amidst the indecisiveness of the outdoors I ventured into the library 

where fortune blessed me with an introduction to poet Jane Kenyon

by way of A Hundred White Daffodils, 

a collection of her essays, interviews, translations,  and poems.

Pleasantly, as rain flooded the back ponds, I discovered a new favored writer.

Jane Kenyon is a highly regarded contemporary poet whose work is greatly influenced by her Christian faith. 

She writes,

“It was my habit to speak to Him.

His goodness perfumed my life.

I loved the Lord,

he heard my cry,

and he loved me as His own.”

From “Woman, Why are You Weeping”, p.207

* * * 

And later in reading an interview with  Bill Moyers,

Jane claims: There are times when I feel I’m given poems.

Bill Moyers: How do we cultivate that in ourselves?

Jane Kenyon: We have to get quiet. We have to be still, and that’s harder and harder in this century.     ...

Moyers: How did you come to write “Let the Evening Come”? So many people say that is the favorite of your poems.

Kenyon: That poem was given to me.

Moyers: By?

Kenyon: The muse, the Holy Ghost... I felt I needed something redeeming. I went upstairs with the purpose of writing something redeeming...this just fell out.

* * * 

This happens, does it not? In just this way. 

In our creative experiences, as one writes, strums, or applies oils to canvas, sensing a hand in union with eye and the heart, 

the Creator present in our inner musing 

to guide our efforts to record His creation.

A Hundred White Daffodils illuminated these early brooding days of spring, 

these expectant and watchful days Lent.

“It’s not just more flowers I want, it’s more light,

more air for flowers, more sun for cheerfulness...

and a hundred white daffodils that grow after dusk 

against the unpainted boards  of an old barn.” 

From “The Phantom Pruner”, p.50

[Originally posted 2014]

A Poet's Holy Muse

Spring alternately bristled and curtsied this week. 

Cutting, crisp winds with rain and intermittent low temps one moment, 

upstaged by bold rays of sun the next day, 

teasing our trees and budding bulbs to release their fragile blooms.

Amidst the indecisiveness of the outdoors I ventured into the library 

where fortune blessed me with an introduction to poet Jane Kenyon

by way of A Hundred White Daffodils, 

a collection of her essays, interviews, translations,  and poems.

Pleasantly, as rain flooded the back ponds, I discovered a new favored writer.

Jane Kenyon is a highly regarded contemporary poet whose work is greatly influenced by her Christian faith. 

She writes,

“It was my habit to speak to Him.

His goodness perfumed my life.

I loved the Lord,

he heard my cry,

and he loved me as His own.”

From “Woman, Why are You Weeping”, p.207

* * * 

And later in reading an interview with  Bill Moyers,

Jane claims: There are times when I feel I’m given poems.

Bill Moyers: How do we cultivate that in ourselves?

Jane Kenyon: We have to get quiet. We have to be still, and that’s harder and harder in this century.     ...

Moyers: How did you come to write “Let the Evening Come”? So many people say that is the favorite of your poems.

Kenyon: That poem was given to me.

Moyers: By?

Kenyon: The muse, the Holy Ghost... I felt I needed something redeeming. I went upstairs with the purpose of writing something redeeming...this just fell out.

* * * 

This happens, does it not? In just this way. 

In our creative experiences, as one writes, strums, or applies oils to canvas, sensing a hand in union with eye and the heart, 

the Creator present in our inner musing 

to guide our efforts to record His creation.

A Hundred White Daffodils illuminated these early brooding days of spring, 

these expectant and watchful days Lent.

“It’s not just more flowers I want, it’s more light,

more air for flowers, more sun for cheerfulness...

and a hundred white daffodils that grow after dusk 

against the unpainted boards  of an old barn.” 

From “The Phantom Pruner”, p.50

A Dusted Grey Cross

In the turning and stepping 

away from my pastor, 

tears were springing to my eyes. 

A dusted grey cross 

marked my bowed forehead 

and a soul deep humility 

marked my heart. 

Return to the Lord, your God,  

for He is gracious and merciful. 

Joel 2: 13

The Spirit within pulsed, swelled, 

and joy erupted in warmth 

across my face. 

A candle lit sanctuary, 

hushed in the sacred of forgiving, 

veiled the emotion of communion 

between God’s spirit 

and this grateful heart.

Then God made you alive with Christ. 

He forgave all our sins. 

He canceled the record 

that contained the charges 

against us. 

He took it and destroyed it 

by nailing it to Christ's cross. 

 Colossians 2:13-14

Gaining composure 

through the measured, steady pace 

back to the rows of pews, 

I sensed the streaming pilgrimage 

of so many all around me. 

Moving in turn, to receive the same mark

 scrawled across a bowed head. 

Were tears welling up, 

and hearts swelling up, 

all along these aisles? 

Once seated, did hands like mine, 

reach for Bibles to scour for favorite 

Psalms of remorse and praising? 

Were ashes giving way to beauty?

This post was already written when the Inbox revealed Emily’s exquisite post. Visit her at Imperfect Prose. She has much to share about the work of ashes.  

~

Women in these communities gather in cozy corners of the internet to offer thoughts and encouragement for faith filled days. Join us.

Royal Hue Heralds Our Lord's Love

Royal Purple 

Hue

 Herald's  

Our Lord's Love!

Surveying spring's emerging color, I find ample evidence of purple's royal hue. Iris, Clover, Tulip, Lupine, Pansy... blooms in various shades of purple's range brave the vacillating temperatures between winter's end and spring's arrival. 

Shades deep, shades pale, shades rosy-red, shades nearly black; announce the season of Lent.
The season of honoring our Lord's sorrow, suffering, and sacrifice offered in love for all of God's people.

The imperial  purple hue derived from the sea, historically obtainable only by those of wealth and royal position, and reserved for occasions of important celebration. Ranging from
deep magenta to indigo blue,
purple reigns in its velvety richness of dense color. 


The early church acknowledged the color's royal, favored status and assigned it to represent the sacred season of Lent. Sanctuary, alter, and clergy may be appointed with elements of purple during worship in this season of the church calendar.

Surveying the emerging spring, my soul recalls the Prince that has given all for me that I may be one  of his people, one of his dearly beloved, one of his chosen ...

“...you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, 

that you may declare the praises of him 

who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” 

1 Peter 2:9

Joining stories and pictures gathered over here:

SUNDAY , God-Incidences, and Snapshot and Scripture.