We Have Found a Good Home

Our hands lay palms upon knees
and we have rested.

Breath upon breath
and we have listened.

Hope leads to greater hope
and we have moved quietly.

It all comes to us gradually
that we belong.

We have searched
until we realise we are found.

We knock
and the door opens wide.

We have stopped looking
for meaning elsewhere.

We have found a good home
here.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Arno Smit

A Psalm of the Holy Graces of Life

Your ear is turned towards my voice
and deep within my inward parts,
you are listening.

Your whole intention is given
without reserve.
You have inclined yourself to
the spaces of my heart.

Your pathways are before me certain
as the moment I was born.
You have provided for the days between
my birth and death.

The evil risen up around the earth
must be told again, and we look to see it's true,
that there are more with us each time
than those that are with them.

All holy is the pearl of your words,
dripped dew from the stem of grace.
All beauty is your soul with no beginning.

You have spread yourself glory-expansive over me
and the protection of your favour
can not be removed.

All holy is your compassion
in the dirt and fallow places where we least expect to find you.
All holy is your weeping, over the losses we have faced.

No voice can match the matchless sound of yours.
All other words fall harmless to the ground.

In love I was born, in love I live, in love I will die
and wrapped in the shield of your graces, I will live again.

Amen.

Jenneth Graser

Photo by Ray Hennessy on Unsplash

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