Trajectory of Hearts

I soften the moment into listening, 

mentored by the wisdom of the aged

and the young bent on learning.

I find myself in the carpenter's backroom with a son

who made himself slow, intent, methodical,

an apprentice with a teachable heart.

Time ages the body
and yet pulls the mind into what is not time,
allowing a proverb to make itself known.

I must allow for action minimal
and internally stoke up the fires,
watch together with God the birth of a star.

I plan to be here, an observer,

until I may be there simultaneous,

until our trajectory of hearts align.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Greg Rakozy Unsplash

Stories of Trees

birch, elm, maple

trees have grown

across the continents of my life

eucalyptus, cedar, pine

transplanted sometimes

into new gardens

oak, poplar, succulent

resin oozes as
rings in the trunk tell time

wild cherry, mulberry, plum

roots silently delve,

while some trees die

weeping willow

many leaves in colder climes
turn colour and fall

but our deciduous branches

start to bud mid-winter

jacaranda, avocado, yellowwood 

and there are always saplings

in the undergrowth

Jenneth Graser

Photography Rob Mulally Unsplash

Love is Never Wasted

We have opened our hands
to let go of the final precious offerings.

There is nothing left in our control.
Now the pallette is empty
for a deposit of your colour.
Now the parchment has been erased
for the readiness of your pen.

Our relationships have been
relinquished on your threshold.

Where we have been unable
to make things right,
our forgiveness may be the gift
that reconciles, or your unseen hands
may sculpt a new possibility.

Letting go may be a kite of dreams
that sets free the seeds of grace,
for in another realm we may wait to truly know
each other once again.

How many seeds are planted in love
only to bear fruit in eternity?

As many seeds we may sow
and never see the harvest this side,
may be planted in eternal realms
to become fruit for the lips of God.

Love is never wasted
and will always cause growth
hidden in our everlasting souls,
in our physical realm made manifest,
or in the Spirit, as yet unfelt, we may never know.

But we can rest in the knowledge
of love that always bears the fruits of peace
and takes what is stretched out,
our palms open as wings,
finally able to feel space enough
to take to the sky,

unencumbered by the weight of
trying to bear matters
that belong in the care of God alone.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Kyle Szegedi

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

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