Tuesday, November 21, 2017

The Silent Place - a prayer

I pray to be lifted in beauty,
to see the cool bright day before me
and take in the music of garden,
the distant murmur of the sea.

To remember the stars above my head
whenever I waken
and the moon slowly turning
around the planet turning too.

To remember the continents afloat
and the sands over the mountain
at the beck and call of waves.

To enjoy each breath I am afforded
and to smile more than I have, to smile in the eyes.

To smell the freshness of time in the morning
instead of feeling chased all my life.

To learn the meaning of rest in a given moment
and to give back generously.

I am seeking to throw off this old skin that
hinders movement.

May I be born all over again
and see everything for the first time?

May I be able to appreciate the
glorious life I've been offered?

May I take your hands and be led
in peace and quiet even though there
is a noise, a chaos all around me.

Let me be in the silent place
of knowing I am loved.


Jenneth Graser

Photography - Bethany Legg Unsplash

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Halfway to the Other Side

We have shifted sideways
where shadows lengthen the lawn
and we have parted with grieving.

The pathways through the garden
have been to us a maze of high hedges
manicured to perfection and yet,
too high to see over.

A cul-de-sac appears around every corner
and we have persevered so as to navigate
ourselves into other dead-ends.

A hole in the hedge reveals
a window through which to peer
and there is the house we have been
searching for.

A river runs under the house
and cools the feet after so long a walk.
Every room is lined with books
where words are threaded into the
quilt of lives lived halfway to the other side.

The trees still speak to us, as always.
But we have asked the gardener to kindly
open more doorways for us.
He told me, they have been there all along.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Thomas Gearty

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

A Mother Has a Mountain Inside of Her

A mother has a mountain inside of her,
but her head is above the clouds.

She must be prepared to feel the
rivers run from a collection of rain
into the sea at her feet.

A woman stretches out her clenched fist
to feel a sunbird in the pool of her hand, bathe
and then fly off.

It is important to know
when to hold onto the dirt and the root
and when to cleanse your hands in the fountain.

Birds swoop from her soul into her heart,
catching insects on summer days softened by rain.

Love is here beating upon her.

She has only to observe the threshold of her womb
to know how much love
has passed through her body.

She is a threshold of many doors
and will let the feelings find a way on

Wind must usher forth the rest of it
with seeds finding a place to grow,
carrying only the burdens away.

The sky clears with high clouds cirrus
speaking of everything hopeful.

Inside of her is a place no noise can reach.

She is floating on a sea of courage
bearing her aloft.

Under water a whole world is thriving unseen,
but such seekers of silence dive into it
and come up themselves reborn,

ready for dry land once again.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Victor Carvalho Unsplash

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Relinquish the Words

You may be walking into a forest
and smelling everything -
the cones crushed underfoot,
the sap rising.

You may be navigating stones
on the shore of countless waves.

You may be learning to re-love
your own heart again
and making time for a line of birds
on the mid-point of the horizon.

You may be wondering whatever 
happened to the grace of first wonder?

You may be checking yourself
for holes in your pockets.

But your body is surrounded by trees and water,
your mind is bowing down
and your spirit is in tune with all wings.

You may be wondering what you are doing
here after all these years?

You may be pausing to observe the hour.

Waves thrust your toes deep into sand
and you stumble upon the sky speaking
your language.

You are being birthed upon yourself
and learning to relinquish the words
for the meaning,

while feathers drift out of the sun
and settle at your feet.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Aaron Burden Unsplash

Saturday, October 14, 2017

A Psalm of Noticing

Lord you are the author of the green leaf
and the turning of its colour.

You lay me down in the grasses
to take in the zest of the earth.

Contemplation is among us now
in the living of quiet things.

The brilliant shiny blue shell of a beetle
with contrasting orange body, whirs out of confinement.

Lord, you are my teacher from creation
leading me on paths worn well.

You also invite me on the upward ways
not many are inclined to take.

Noticing the blessings I see in nature
trains me to become more aware within.

Not everything has beauty, but once you touch
these things with your hands, it all gains perspective.

Lord, you are my abiding Person of mystery
and my greatest friend of all description.

You are always a place to come home to
and at the same time, my pilgrim adventure.


Jenneth Graser

Photography Micah Hallahan Unsplash