Finding Your Own Sacred Heart
Poems From The Porch
A reflecting pool under the water oak is shimmering in the wind,
and the magical chimes are heartily singing in response to the chill of the day.
It is their reminder that life is percolating
even within the winter grey.
Gusts of invisible movement are engaging the trees,
and they are releasing their withered leaves in response,
letting go of that which no longer serves them.
Over my shoulder I see the spritely clover
whose lavender blossoms are contracting against the wind.
It makes me wonder if times of closing are really necessary,
if all these boundaries we set are more like walls put up to
defend our tender self-esteem and tenacious pride.
I don’t know the answer,
but I feel the invitation to open and receive life
moment by moment,
gift upon gift,
pain upon pain,
grace upon grace.
It reminds me of the depictions of the Sacred Heart of Jesus,
which embraces the suffering of the world
and a wretch like me,
with thorns piercing that compassionate organ
in hospitality to us all.
This beneficence doesn’t label and judge,
categorize and condemn,
but simply stays present and welcoming,
providing warmth and shelter
to every wayward traveler
until all of us finally recognizes that
separation is an illusion
and we are already home.
Then in every situation,
the only response that makes sense is,