The Unknown Seas of a New Year

There is a wind blowing off the sea
urging clouds across thirsty mountains.
A sail has responded internally
setting course for the unknown seas of a new year.

The goaded feet of many travellers
have found the chains, broken,
the fetters smashed.

It was enough to be reminded
of waters from within the most Beautiful Man
that may be drawn to quench all thirst.

Amidst one Son, a countless variety
of pilgrims are voyaging, many sails aloft.

Inside, the breath of the Spirit sets the course
as we stand with wind in our faces
setting our sights on what fills the horizon.

The waves may veer us to the left or the right,
but we hear a voice directing
with true compass navigation.

As the elements swirl around us on this blustery fine day,
we know with a sure anchor
that when we come into harbour tonight
the driven strife will have blown away
and we will feel filled with open spaces
waiting to be travelled.

The map is in the hands of our Captain
and his weather-worn face assures us
that this harbour under the stars
is a place for now, to call home

until tomorrow we set sail again,
and we will be carried
by the four winds of the Spirit
into whatever's ahead.

All we need do is raise anchor,
and hoist the sails.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - A. D. Blake

I wish all of you a Very Blessed and Merry Christmas and Joyous New Year!  Thank you for being part of the journey at Prayers on the Wing this year.  It has been for me in many ways a poetry journal and process of some very transitional times in our lives.  I appreciate each one of you and pray every blessing over you and your families into the New Year.

~ Available from Secret Place Devotions: A Listening Reflection for New Year 2017

~ Did you know that Catching the Light is available for audiobook download? ~ Episode 1-10 and 11-20: scripture reading, gentle piano background music, a devotional reflection and poetry for contemplation: Audiobook Catching the Light Episode 11-20

I Will Find You Again

I come to you between the lines,
in the places no one else can see
where seeds lie dormant under snow
waiting through cracks in the pavement.

Here is where you are to be found -
where no one is looking,
I will find you.

When relationships lag behind
expectations that cannot be met,
when the longing for a rekindling
of connection leaves us feeling bereft -
It is here I meet you.

You make for me a home
where Advent light realigns
the needs of family and friends
both near and far -
I will see you.

When I miss the people
who are no longer a part of my life,
when the children wake up
on the excitement of long ago mornings,

and when I look forward to so much
it cannot be contained -
it is here
I will find you again.

Jenneth Graser

Gift of Wonder

In the fledgling of this day
a gift of wonder is waiting.

Where a branch meets the welcoming sky,
leaves break the brightening palette with green.

A bird not yet grown
shows newly adult feathers peeking through
the down in shimmers of emerald and red.

A curtaining of vine shadows lace the walls
and family faces look like strangers wanting to be known.

Every smile is not taken for granted
where laughter is medicine
and we open this precious gift
that costs us nothing.

We come upon it as grace,
while imagination flickers with picture upon picture
of how the world could be.

We find ourselves praying into dark places
with hopes that are longing for more.

Wonder promises us that miracles
are here to stay.

Through every impossible dark,
there is one ray of light to point the way.

So we pick up the fractured pieces
as Spirit somehow makes sense of it all
in the way only Spirit can,

beyond reasoning or understanding
peace combines with wonder
as healing melts through the sun.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Silvia Stödter

It is Time

There were blank canvasses in cupboards

Unwritten pages in many journals,

Oil paints in wrapping, as yet untouched.

There were books like notes

On staves, unread on shelves

And dancing shoes under the dust.

There were days of perfect sun

Light, making history on the water,

With an empty bench for the view.

There were jackets needing mending

And clutter building up

In the kitchen, pots, utensils.

There were many buttons in

Grandmother’s box, from the good old days.

Envelopes and stamps as yet unlicked, unsent.

There were photographs set on origami

Paper cranes, from which eyes

Observed the passage of time.

There were guitars in their cases

And a piano, needing tuning.

~

Take out the canvasses, dear

Today is a perfect day for painting.

Write your poetry and your gratitude

In a journal of your choosing.

Squish your oils on a palette –

Mess with colour, mix, ooze.

Take out a book that speaks

Of places yet unseen, turn pages.

Put on shoes for dancing

To the beat popping the air.

Slow into your time dear,

On the bench made for you,

To satiate your mind with all you care to see.

Take those old jackets down to charity,

The pots, utensils too.

Make mosaic button rainbows,

Write a letter in your leisure;

Then call up the tuner

And peel off the cases –

It is time to make music.

Jenneth Graser

Photography credit unknown

Resting Seat

There are many things that could be said,
many that could be done.

Mountains to climb, up to the very top,
lists of the bucket kind.

A feeling of to-do lingers at the fringes of the day
as we drop exhausted into bed.

And Lord you are calling us,
you are calling us still...

Come my Beloved,
into a time outside of time.

Come to the resting seat in the garden
of my habitation.

There are no nagging voices or things to be done.

Here, there is presence that guides
everything you do on earth.

Listen to my voice, put on the music, lay aside your rushing.

Move into the pace of ease where my Spirit speaks
strength into your frame.

And whatever you need to face,
we will do it together.

Jenneth Graser

"My lover is mine, and I am his.
Nightly he strolls in our garden,
Delighting in the flowers
until dawn breathes its light and night slips away."

Song of Songs 2:16 MSG

Photography - Jenneth Graser

Listen to Ruth Fazal - instrumental violin album - Songs from the River 2

Make Room for You

It is time to make room for you
to come in ways I have not known.

My heart has become eager for the stretch
of tent pegs and widening of stakes.

The pain of a good stretch will be worth it,
to receive the mystery of your voice in the shade.

I will meet with you in places unfamiliar
and break bread with you, and drink wine.

I will linger over your features
and we will be silent for awhile.

I may not feel like talking,
you may not feel like talking too.

But we will be with the love that grows
through all things hard in a breaking of ground.

We will stay and observe what may come
from such a union, where old love feels new.

As our hearts synchronise,
we hear the rhythm combined.

Jenneth Graser

Image credit unknown

Brother Lawrence's Kitchen

I fold back the sleeves of the day
into Brother Lawrence's kitchen.

The dusky light shines through motes
making a silhouette of this homely monk.

The hard work of food, cooking and dishes
happens without the use of the word busy.

I feel love through the pores of him breathing
and his eyes connected to fellow, self and God.

No ordering about and yet, everything has a place.
No rushing, and yet look, it is all done.

There is peace in each duty performed.
There is a divine connection in the work.

Lord, your presence is all around me as I do,
everything that has a need can be settled into
without the driven edge of stress.

Let us practice the presence of grace
and rest in the bosom of your love
where work is worship.

Jenneth Graser

Credit unknown - From a book published by Fleming Revell Co. in 1900

An audio reading of the book The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence:

Born out of time

On her death bed,
a woman transported on one of her final
breaths
to a time in her past.

Young as ever she did appear
and aware of what awaited her,
this window
into life as it had been lived
was given as a gift before she travelled through.

The moment chosen for her to relive
was on the blink of a mid-life
realisation
whilst snuggling her daughter during nightnight prayers.

She was with the little ones when they were so
small
and words rippled out of their mouths,
confounding them with sage-like wisdom.

"I love you with all the colours of my heart"
"Thank you that we are the praise of God"
"Your songs come into my mouth and my songs go into yours"

Fingers, each so like petals held
on,
as she leant into a beating heart.

Her daughter stroked her hair
as though she was the comforting mother
and the mother, her child.

And the revelation came: she could see herself as an old woman
looking back over time to this moment,
(a time often raced through to get to the next thing),

and she felt herself travel back to be here, be here now
and she knew that for the rest of her life she would
make every attempt to abandon herself to the call of love
by becoming more mindful
of living
in
the
present.

And then the woman found herself back in her bed
with the faces of those she loved around her.
A holding of hands, a kiss on a
breath
and she was born out of time into God.

Jenneth Graser

Photo credit unknown

I Shall Not Want

I walk the path between trees
down into the glade
and place my soul into the water there.

A river alive with stones
awash with every story of my life
flowing downwards to the sea.

I am a flower falling on the stream
and floating in spirals of letting go
as my dreams make way for you.

I am my truest self in the song David sings,
each word unveils the longing of my heart:
I shall not want.

Jenneth Graser

Image - favim.com

The Layers of Thanksgiving

Open the day with thanks
as you shrug back the curtains into the view.
Stop for a moment, remain.

Peel back the layers of thanksgiving:

1. everything beautiful in your past to be grateful for.

Delve deeper and you find:

2. the painful things that have shaped your life for good.

Go into a new layer and you find:

3. the small, seemingly insignificant things that make a difference.

Deeper again, peel off another layer:

4. gratitude for the present moment.

Then you become thankful for:

5. the patience you learn through irritations.

6. the challenging people who teach you to love and forgive.

7. the big things you often take for granted.

Then you discover thanks for:

8. the best that is yet to come.

The emotion of gratitude takes over
and you realise the layers won't ever stop,
because at the ever-unveiling heart of thanksgiving you find,
something invaluable:

9. the spirit of contentment.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - Guido Mieth

Hidden

It is good to be hidden in the great garden.
It is good to be hidden in rain.

It is good to be under the fingerprints
of green foliage among trees.

It is good to be hidden in the hand, in prayer,
to be under the wing.

To be hidden by wave upon wave, and behind the waterfall.

To be hidden in the womb and the fluff of the nest,
to be held in the cloth of motherly care.

To be under the night sky of a new moon
in the middle of a field looking into star upon star,
in the grass, hidden.

Such times were given to us so that we may listen,
and speak and be heard.

So that we may find ourselves
alone in the presence of greatness.

So that we may know we
are small

and yet find the universe is expanding on our breath
and upon each thought as we crest the tides
of love in being
hidden.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Dorothy Lathrop

Tiny Seeds

He moistened the hem of her robe,
led her by both hands.

The green of the forest was under her feet,
now there is only water.

The fire ate up most of the mountains,
with a sound of seeds popping.

She used excuses by the dozen, offered
to herself and to others.

By late October, tendrils appeared
and her fears were dealt with in dreams.

Ecclesiastes called for seasons of planting,
with a time to weep and a time to laugh.

The grass had a chance once again, as
blackened earth and charred roots gave way.

The soles of her feet were too used to stones.
She came alone from the desert to the trees calling.

Her tiny seeds have sprouted
in the hands of her Lover.

Jenneth Graser

"Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens
when the dust becomes hard
and the clods of earth stick together?"

Job 38:37-38

Artist - Arun Prem

Written into the Core

What moves you behind the scenes
where stars are delved in galaxies displayed?

Kingdoms rise and fall before your eyes.
Time trickles under the veil of immortality.

One man pokes his finger into
space determined to attempt
what no man has.

One woman steps onto the ladder
of her higher intent, going places
they say.

A child rolls a dice across
the table and the people laugh
because the number is right,
but what happens when the
die is cast and no one likes
the outcome?

Birds circumnavigate the globe
guided by pure instinct alone.
What steers the heart of people
to what is true?

What makes one turn to
eternal voices eager to learn
and another plummet into
the dregs of lust for power insatiable?

Fish move in schools of syncopated
rhythm, clouds adorn the
sky in colours dressed by position
of the planet towards the sun and
animals know when to sleep
and when to move.

Will we remember what has
been written into the core of our DNA?

Will we listen to the groove of purpose
etched upon the surface of the
world and resonating in the
deep heart's core?

Jenneth Graser

Photograph - ilovehdwallpapers.com

An Embrace that Holds On

In the hands of some people
there are beautiful things.
There are hands reaching
out to give these things away.

There is a heart restricted
so tight it can hardly breathe.
It is time to unzip this heart
and place what is inside
into a field.

I am moulting
and finding I know not what,
but this must be OK,
to not know and to be so angry
under the peeling skin.
Anger first,
then what is to come, can come.
What is to be, can be.

There is a hammock in the
field for misunderstood
misfits who have looked a long
time for a place to belong,
always on the fringes
of other people's dreams.

Memories dislodge with the voices
of laughing children and
water on the rocks.

There is an embrace that holds on
until the heart relaxes once again.
Sun may shine on such an
awkward feeling until the
muscles thaw out and
remember the sweetness of being,
out under the warm light of
everything lovely about the sun.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - eu.fotolia.com

Meant to be

She has just discovered
the artist she knew she was always
meant to be.

It was already a fact
at birth when her fingers
trailed impressionist milk
across her mother's chest.

Her face squashed with
all the wisdom that presses in
from being formed on the
other side of time.

A vestige of the kisses of God
left on her ears,
the petals of a newly born flower.

Colours mixed on a canvass -
an ooze of paint,
a sigh of brush...
and the beat of the drum
of her pulse speaks.

Her silence makes music.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Hiep Nguyen

Search for the Anchor

A woman behind her guitar
strums the void with sound,
but has not found peace to still
the old voices that taunt her
when the curtains are closed.

A man lifts his beautiful heart -
though his voice is lost
in the microphone, his spirit offers
an uncaged bird
and so he sings what we cannot hear,
with our ears alone.

There are people carried on the swell of chairs
as they search for the anchor.
There is belief, a variety
that pulses for union,
for answers of the greater kind,
for an answer of any kind.

Follow him then on the sidewalk
and look him in the eyes.
Provide a place of movement
or a seat on the voyage of doldrums.

We will fan our faces
in salt-tasting air
and swim where water fathoms deep
looks but a breath away.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - David Doubilet

The Humble in Making

Upon the mind water flows.
Upon the thoughts, the rain.
A gust on every curvaceous turn
of the brain.

There are angels on the pathways
of memory, treading softly.
There is a jar of sweet balsam -
see how it is poured into forgiveness.

Every branching off of every
tree of thought is reaching for the
root of meaning.

Rest now, into the water,
into the breath that comes from
air above the mountains,
clearing all the smog of voices on
the horizon.

The pointing fingers are no more
lining the path of imagination.
God is in the neurons.
See how small God may be!

Set a course of possible thought -
trees voluptuous in leaf, in blossom,
in fruit, fragrance the path
of emerging ways of being.

The nagging voices shouting "less"
are swept off of the path with "more"!

More hope, more love, more
surrender in our weakest places.

We find a pulsing strength in the
wind, water, fire of God
and we are grounded on the
earth of the humble
in making.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Bianca Green

Only Forwards

You have reached into
my Holy face.

I have felt your hand
in the realm of my holiness.

Enter my Holy face.

Walk into my mind,
and wave upon wave
of my imagination will
roll over your shores.

Reach into my Holy face
with your whole being
and I will find you there
as never before.

I meet with you in
blue light dimensions.

I meet with you under
the water where words
are not uttered.

Now that you have entered
there is no going back.

Only forwards, I will take you.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - stebbisveins on Flickr

Let that be honey to you

You are my Daughter.
Let that be honey to you.
Let that be ever sweet to your taste.

The world may riot in the hurricane -
there are frenzied whispers of
utter disbelief in the bowls
of striving.

There are violent retributions
and no solutions to be had.
But you are my Daughter
and I am your Father.

You are my bringer of laughter
cherry on the top
candle to be lit.

My dwelling-place Daughter,
belonging where the
world cannot strive over your head.

Where your heart is held sacred.

I am your Father.
I set my seal on you from before birth.

I have laughed over your laughter,
I have wept over your tears.

I laugh over your laughter
throughout all of time,
I collect every tear.

(primarily written in July this year inspired by Psalm 2)

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Victoria Rhodehouse

Becoming More

She has made her soul to be
as smooth as possible,
laid down before the feet
of passers-by as a road for travel.

She has attempted the intricate
architecture of bridging across landmass
for others.

She has contemplated the doormats
that ordain front shops and village homes -
some welcome all guests,
others used for wiping off the dirt alone.

As long as she is beneath and
not above, all eyes greet her
with warmth and happiness.

As long as she is quiet
when quiet is expected.
As long as she is vocal
only by definition, all is well.

But to become aware,
to wave her soul as a banner,
to extricate from the web
of articulate conversation,
to express deeper thoughts
that arise from within like prisms,
to attempt to walk
on top of the water when others
prefer taking the ferry,
to shake off the doormat dust
and walk through the threshold of the door
into what may come -

This is met with a variety of
possible reactions, not all welcome.

And yet to feel her soul
become a skin of tattooed brilliance,
to feel her soul a jewel refracting light,
to feel her soul becoming;
becoming more
is worth sacrificing people's opinions
over the cliff of intention,
is worth shedding old ways
that no longer service,
is worth the pain
of discovery. 

She has become for herself
a flying carpet.

She may pour out abundance
upon the faces of all people.
She may touch the temple
of every human being with full grace
and travel every road with her soul a flag flying
from her hand stretched out of the window,
exuberant.

Jenneth Graser

Artist Dawn Siebel

What it is to remember

A river has begun again to console
the naked stones of summer.

The riverbed sings
of all it lost in the drought.

Frogs croak beside,
reminding all things that
water will return from the clouds
upon the mountain's bosom
heaving with too much regret.

Relief may be found
in the rain carrying the ache of every
unmentionable, into the sea
eventually.

The sea has been known to
cover dark deeds,
to obliterate wrong-doing.

But every wave that wraps
around the shore will whisper
and whisper, whisper again
to me of forgetfulness.

And what it is to remember -
beautiful things.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - Clark Little

Nothing Short of a Miracle

New tools may be placed in old hands
where learning occurs.

Eyes that open from the inward
may affect the way all outward
things are seen.

A pregnant idea is not yet birthed.

Wait for true ripening;
then clarity may follow.

We are too much in a hurry with ourselves,
lest we lose our way.

Or slow into the breath.

Lifting a quilt under a sky of cold nights,
mists of exhalation dissipate
on each dream
just out of reach.

Come back to yourself.

When comfortable in your skin
everything ordinary and commonplace
becomes something to marvel at.

There is a large downy feather in the bathroom -
you have no idea where it came from.

And your neighbour is nothing short of
a miracle.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - PortLove

When We Didn't Know

We sometimes sow seeds in the ground
unable to discern if they
will ever sprout.

We sometimes wait on the
edge of a drought
for one drop of rain.

If only things would be simple
like they used to be when we didn't know.

We walk over river stones so smooth
in our bathing suits as Mom sketches us
caught up on a page in time.

We have all changed.

We search for innocence
to meet with us where we are,
so that we may travel back through
a wardrobe into our childhood fantasies.

There is a secret garden, and we have the key.

There is a first love foundation
where we first met
for the first time
on a breath and a sigh;

And we have it still.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - TurningBear Mason

The Wake of Awareness

Fairer than the early hours fair.
With the hand of the clock, ticking
for more.

Light narrows the hours
and a pendulum sets into motion.

Braver than the midnight gong brave.

A soul of parchment is translucent
at dawn.
Every colour before the sun rises
touches the centre with soft warmth.

A friend or foe, each thought
must be determined
before driving out the latter.

To dwell in darkness though a
midday sun shines on the awning?

A kiss on the cheek of fears
at the leavetaking of each
acknowledged.

No longer the knee-jerk reactions.
Base instincts have slept in the
wake of awareness.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Norman Duenas

Remember what it is to be

When the straw falls on the back
of one too many camels,
it is time to shed weight.

To set up a tent beside an oasis
outside of civilization
where date palms hang heavy with fruit
and the sky is your only entertainment.

Here the water calls you
to remember the promises
etched on your inner skin,

where scriptures live as
tattoos on your heart.

And your fullness will overflow
as an oasis to others
who have traipsed through the desert;

just wishing to hurl all of the
doom and gloom into a pit
and longing to believe life

can be more simply lived.

So we remember ourselves into the moment
where time cannot drive eternity's pulse.

We go right back to the memories
of life without anything digital,
where nature suggests a rhythm for life
and we flow with it.

We know what we are supposed to be doing,
because we remember what it is to be.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Leanna Teneyoke

Masterpiece

You may tell yourself nice things
like: it's really not that bad,
grin and bear it.

You may tell yourself:
I'm fine.
Happiness is an inside job
and the sun will come up tomorrow.

And it's true.
The sun will rise
on mountains that share in her beauty.

Trees will keep in their cycles
of growth as they should.
Birds will fly, and sing.

Laughter is healing.

And it could be a lot worse.

When you rearrange
what life has dealt you with,

you create for yourself
a masterpiece of
abstract art.

And you don't have to explain anymore
or justify responses.

It is good to express the goodness
that has been kept for so long
on the inside of
unique and wonderful you.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Francoise Nielly

Open Up Our Dreams

What would it feel like
to run up a mountain and then
run back down again?

To tell about what it looks like from the top
and let others know, yes!
You can do it too.

To listen to the stories people
have to share
and pass on the wisdom we gain.

To put aside agendas
and imagine again what things could be like -
and live into those possibilities.

To wake up knowing
our feet can walk on water.

To know like a child knows,
that nothing is impossible.

We can open up our dreams,
and not give up for one moment.

We can accept only what is energised
through love
and see all lies lose capacity.

Only God can show us how
powerful we really are.
Only we can
believe it.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 31 Prompt - only

Photo credit unknown

Holy Disruption

A man with a halo of white hair
spoke about holy disruptions
on Sunday.

We were visiting the Lutheran congregation
in Cape Town, on Strand Street.

The Eurochor had come to sing
beautiful and hope-gracious praise,
and he spoke of the angels we meet
in the strangers we face.

We have grown in the vine.
We have had our withered branches
cut off.

We have felt a promise of fruitfulness
surge through with juicy sap
and learned to be grateful
for the things that have fallen away.

A holy disruption
is necessary.

It is good to be disrupted:
to have your feathers ruffled,
to be shaken up a bit,
to see things in a new way.

When you are hurled into the sky,
it is then that
you will find your wings.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 30 Prompt - cut

Photo credit unknown

Listen to the Eurochor

The Day we Arrived

The ever over-the-horizon destination,
to-do lists.

The achievements
that are worked towards -
achieved, and do not satisfy.

Somewhere over the rainbow
there is no pot of gold,
because it is buried
deep within our hearts.

Hidden under a prism of promises,
waiting there to be found.

There is no ultimate destiny
with a greenness of grass
that is greener than the grass
under our feet.

It is God we will find
in the challenges we have
before us and it is God we have
in all of our gratitude.

Today, is a date to mark down
on the calendar
as the day we arrived.

There is peace in the accomplishments
you have achieved for us.

Our dreams flow out
of your heart of belonging.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 29 Prompt - date

Artist - Richard Kretch

Your Face at my Table

We stand at the door of your knocking
and open wide
to the light of your dawn.

Come, we will sit down.
We will be together,
enfolded in peace though there
are many uncertainties at play.

This is the true
bold reality we live for,
your face at our table as yet unseen.

This is the banquet
We have waited to share with you.

Come, let us eat, let us drink.

And we will be filled,
our thirsts will be quenched,
our hungers will rest
in the delight of your feast.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 28 Prompt - eat from Five Minute Friday

Credit unknown

Listen to: His Banner Over Me (Kevin Prosch) with Jeremy Riddle

For Sophia

6 years ago, the rose creeper
flushed a pinkness of flowers into the garden,
welcoming you home.

My Little Girl,
in the hospital with you in my arms.

We knew your first name
from the dream I had.

But we were trying to find a second name for you.

And when we settled on it,
we felt that peace would be your heritage.
So we called you Wise
and we called you Dove.

Do you know, from the windowsill
on that very day
a dove, whiter than white can be,
flew into the air?
And I knew that God was there
in the feathers telling us something
big
in a small way.

I don't really remember the bouquets of flowers.
But I do remember the roses spilling
the air with joy,
so glad they were that you came home.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 27 Prompt - bouquet

Artist - Yellena James

Your Delicate and Precious Intentions

Smiles are followed by indigestion
after some conversations.
And we feel the Spirit nudge
us with fingertips of
a summery breeze,
lifting our preconceived ways
of doing things into the air.

Some days are meant for
re-evaluation.

When we recognise the wind
that blows around our chest
and the restless rise and fall,
as something more than just
happenstance digestion,
we are on the verge of fresh revelation.

Some days are meant for
confrontation.

No more doing things the way we always did.
No more lapsing into familiar patterns
that just don't work for us.
Or them.

We feel our warm thoughts rise like warm air
is meant to,
and we know, we are going to have to pick up that phone,
write that letter, make that face to face appointment.

There is no going back.
Take the bull by the horns they say,
before the bull in the china shop of your delicate
and precious intentions
crashes them all to the floor
once again.

God is with her (you love that scripture)
she will not fall (yes, say it again),
God is with her at break of day.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 26 Prompt - confront

Photography - Matt Wisniewski

Dark Place of Trust

Gideon managed really well
when he needed sure confirmation.

There were undeniable miracles.

Even so, his heart must have
trembled on the first, yes God
I will.

We want a sign:
audible voice from the heavens,
word of knowledge,
and a wonder:
dove to alight on our shoulder
with a message sent.

A fleece will also do.
To prove that what we feel
is really what you are asking of us.

But Thomas reached in on the wounds
in your side with the words:
Blessed are those who do not see
and yet believe.

So are we blessed then,
when we forgo the need for signs
and enter more deeply into the dark
place of trust?

It is love that has been waiting
there for us
in our falling.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 25 Prompt - sign

Artist Gabriella Barouch

Listen to Trust by Kristene Mueller

Angels on their way somewhere

The signs of the times
point in many directions.

Many a soul has felt the
overwhelming need for a map
that would lay out the path
in such a way
that GPS would not be necessary.

We want to tap into the glory
that fills the earth
as the waters do the sea.

We want our eyes opened
like the servant of Elisha,
to realise there are more for us
than against us.

We would like to see flaming chariots
and to hear the words:
"You need only to be still,
the Lord will fight for you."

Much goes on behind the scenes,
we have no notion of.

Angels walk the streets
in the centre of much commotion
and no matter what the eye may see,
greater are those with us.
Greater too the one who resides
within us.

Our prayers do matter.
The livening presence of God works through us
into a place of first love compassion
for the world, it was always
intended for everyone.

We can see our prayers fly alongside
the angels on their way somewhere
to help someone who really needs it.

We do make a difference.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 24 Prompt - global

Artist - Elvira Amrhein

Listen to Calling all Angels - Loft Sessions with Brian Johnson

Eye of the Storm

There are contentious blowouts
across borders.

What is right, what is wrong?
Clouded issues fraying patience.

Trust calls you to places
the outcome is not certain.

Lean into the chest of greater grace.
The best is yet to come.

Though clouded be the skies for a time,
one ray of light comes breaking through
and perspective changes.

Some things cannot be worked out in the mind.

Feel the weight of your knees press into the earth
with the hope of surrender.

When you release all possibility into the hands
of belonging, you find peace.

Out of chaos, you will rest in the eye of the storm;
not a breath of wind can reach you here.

Stay until you know it is time
to move on.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 23 Prompt - blowout

Artist unknown

Dare to Shine

You have felt for some time the pull
of simplicity.

A lowering of certain expectations
to make room for what comes.

The peeling of a shroud
of weighty obligation,
to step out like a newborn.

Switch off the lying voices loud.
Dial up on a whisper of promises.

Look at your self in the mirror.
Remove the labels they put there.

You can rearrange the territory
and prepare for what did not feel so safe before.

Take off the mask to let your skin
breathe in the fair light of day.
Reach out for help when help is needed.

No more running for cover -
You will dare to shine.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 22 Prompt - off

Artist - Dorina Costras

Listen to Beyond the window - Jason Upton

Kingdom Without Walls

You wake on dreams

reserved for such a time as this -
messages written on your listening soul.

Under stars not often seen
you rest beside the waters deep,
where springs unblocked have risen in the night.

The river has swept
the pathway of your travels clean.

You find a banquet lush
on tables laid beneath the trees.

Leaves have formed a canopy
over dreamers spilling wisdom
from the cup.

On each note of invitation,
a secret name engraved
calls forth the spirit, heart and mind.

We are seeking for what we already have,
buried vast within.

X marks the spot
on a kingdom without walls
inside, alive and well.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 21 Prompt - park
Five Minute Friday

Artist - Cliff Briggie

Listen to Stargazer by John Belt

Doing Nothing with God

Take off your sandals
and bask under the fire of God's eyes.

Enter the Sabbath rest
for the children.

There is a wonderfully blessed woman
who works into the night.

She is learning to forgo duty;
where tenderness holds idle hands.

Mary has made herself vulnerable,
casting aside all care of what the people say.

But there is a time and a season
for every activity under the face of heaven.

And she has chosen a burning bush
for now.

She would put aside all work dutiful,
to soak in the strength that comes

From doing nothing
with God.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 20 Prompt - weekend

Artist - Frank Wesley

Spread-Wide Heart

Some looks speak what words have no chance to say.
It takes a willing spirit to drop the keys
and resolve to take in the pages of speech
that will pour forth expansive.

You grow yourself discerning
when you draw from wisdom
by following undefined paths
to places that welcome all seekers.

The paths that take you first low
to where water runs deep,
before you take what you have learned
and declare it from the mountains.

Be with the small insignificant
things that feel like they are going
nowhere and achieving not much.

Notice where love hides
under the bling of what looks
more outwardly appealing.

There are treasures to be found
in unexpected places.

When you have gathered the
intricate lessons contained in
humble undergrowth,
you may be trusted to give away pearls.

When giving becomes to you
more beautiful than losing or gaining,
the immaculate compassion of
your spread-wide heart will take in
more than enough of goodness,
you won't have room for it.

Just spilling goodness abundant
from what you found in tiny obscure places,
when you noticed that eternity
was buried there.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 19 Prompt - notice

Artist - Roger Roberts

Listen to Iona - Treasure

Neighbours

He took the leprous and unsightly hands
of a woman kicked to the outskirts.

He took them in his own and pressed every doubt
out of mind with one word, Clean.

He saw hope where there was no
rightful reason for hope to be and yet,

I will come to your house.
I will eat with you.

With a calling forth, his words
brought life where there was none.

He takes my breath into a place air is sweet
and gives me space inside my chest
to take in beauty beyond the pain of it.

My womanly being is welcomed where
perfume breaks open on moments like these.

Every soul is seen with eyes that see,
without constraints or definitions narrow.

Love has shaped every person born.
We are all neighbours.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 18 Prompt - neighbours

Artist - Nicole Roggeman

Music on Those Words

The music incorporates
the instruments of every culture
that has ever existed.

Worship to the listeners
sounds like love carried on the wind in a cry.

His shoes syncopate a beat
that invites a body to respond,
or not, as they please.

He placed the essence of himself
in the shoes of the other -
God made man.

Love felt the sting of all evil inclination
and every response we imagined he would take
passed him by.

Study the nature of God in the words:
"Father forgive them,
they know not what they do."

The music on those words
can reach every corner of the soul
of every human being.

There is no unreachable place.
There is no unreachable heart.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 17 Prompt - study

Photography - Jeffrey Vanhoutte

The Veil Grew Thin

Before we were born,
we were known.

And there was a day your words
filled the atmospheres with light
for the very first time.

There is always a before.

Before you were conceived
in confines of a womb,
Bright Morning Star.

You became little -
Precious Baby, God so small;
rejected from an inn to the hay
on a night the veil grew thin on hallelujahs.

God in the form of flesh contained
in a vessel of earth-bound love
for your human travels.

All of your omnipotence
given over to the brunt of nail,
body against wood and thrusting sword.

For our smallness to be lifted in
the fullness of infinite grace,
and so, to live forever.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 16 Prompt - little

Painting - Brian Kershisnik

Move into Prayer

You filled a space in your diary
for a date with yourself today.

You switch off your phone.
No demands on your attention.

You decide to walk down to the park -
you know of a place not many go.

A glade of trees among trees
and leaves in a state of holy ebb,
where a stream flows beneath it all.

Into the peace, you quietly tread.
Every voice silenced, one by one.

Each thought sighs into the ground
as a seed on your breath.

Your hands are ladles
for water scooped from a river
that quenches, a parched mind.

This is your cathedral -
worship, a humble song
under the cavern of green light

You move into prayer, slowly.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 15 Prompt - move

Artist - Odon Czintos

Beautiful soaking music by Julie True & Grace Williams

Free download of the first ten episodes of Catching the Light available on Noisetrade

Sacred Trust

My Dear Child,

You have been feeling drawn out
on the worn threads of yesterday's carpets.

You have wondered at the way
time seems to run under the river.

There have been times of walking
for long stretches through dry lands.

You have kept your eyes out
for signs of life on dew-kept nights.

But I led you to the sea instead.

At first you kept watch as the waves
invited you ever so gently.

You didn't know which way to turn
anymore, so instead you dived straight in.

There is another world of hidden dimension
in the deep heart of my life kept for you.

Like the reef that births colour with
verdant flashes of fish through coral.

In the right element you will thrive,
my Beloved Child.

In the deep heart of my life
where I keep you, close.

You are growing even though the
tides wane on the moon's pull.

You are going places in my Spirit
you will only find when your spirit is stretched.

I pour every grace into your life known and unknown
and I am working behind the scenes.

The gift of your trust is sacred;
every prayer and tear is to me, perfume.

I love you with a love that always grows,

Your Heavenly Father

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 14 Prompt through Five Minute Friday - mail

Artist - Charlie Mackesy

Watch and listen to the Father's Love Letter

Wait for Resurrection

Leave every watch and clock behind.
Go to places the earth receives
the barefooted pleasure of you.

Where you are able to
notice yourself as a breathing,
living human being.

Emotions may rise and fall
with the spending of a day
on what seems like nothing.

But there are tears here
that come on laughter and on pain.

And there are tears of another kind
when beside the tomb of evil fruits,
you walk straight into a man weeping.

Interpretations of reality
are determined by your
outlook on life accumulated.

But sit with God
from the viewpoint of things eternal
and you realise love must still be greater.

Awareness steeped
in veins of blood that ran
for all mankind,
transforms our ability to
really see.

We are changed by the tears God sheds
at the mouth of every tomb that
waits for resurrection.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 13 Prompt - aware

Artist - Daniel Bonnell

Listen to Resurrection - Nicol Sponberg

Spacious Skies of Grace

You form the clouds
cirrus, alto stratus, cumulus.
You taught me to look up
when the ground holds my attention.

The sound of a jet blisters the air
too fast for the eye to see.

But clouds are shapes
waiting for translation.

When the news I hear
delivers with it a yoke of injustice
on the weight of dread,
I look for a bird to
trace my piece of sky.

It is not for me to carry such loads.
It is not for me to bear the outcomes
of every eventuality
waiting to happen.

No, I spread myself into the sky, wide.
I feel the whole of me captured, up.

You carried the pain
with the blood, sweat and tears you shed
one deeper than dark day.
And you carry it still.

Lift me through the cirrostratus
where clouds ephemeral wisp my worries
into dissipated blue.

I will grow with my soul into
the spacious skies of grace -

Miracles are waiting.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 12 Prompt - sky

Artist - Ken Bushe

Listen to Fly - Jason Upton

Hopeful Seeds

Divine chaos entwines with joy
where feet run up and down the passage
in a riot of fellowship.

We have arrived at today.

Where I am in the already,
and the not yet.

The sea is remarkably different
under the mountains and wind.
A memory of sand grits between my toes
with the irritations of a worried conscience.

I need to ease off on myself
and breathe in the salt travelled air
borne acrosss many oceans thus far
to enter so fully into my lungs.

To remind me of every single thing in my life
I have to be thankful for.

Because today there is a gentle falling
rain as summer broaches the air.
Straight through the humble pine
to the valley below, reeds are soft
in the mist shone sun.

Anxious thoughts dip through
silver-lined clouds and become
seeds to plant of love that wins out
over strange divisions.

Today is a day for planting those
hopeful seeds in the ground.

Today is a day for thanks.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 11 Prompt - thanks

Painting - Zoe Norman

Listen to "Thank God for Something" - Hawk Nelson