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
through.

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

What It Is to Be Seen

It is not a simple matter of arriving,
but of listening into the times we have been given.

We have scrambled for truth between the lines
and those who have aged through selfless acts of kindness
are hidden in the cracks of the world.

It is all in the eyes, he said.
The eyes we have dared to face with our eyes,
until we know what it is to be seen.

Seen with the fire that blazed the suns into being
and the love that causes knees to fold
and the power that causes rocks to weep

and we have felt the tears well up from
within the places no words are spoken

and the spirit has a voice most clear

and all of the things that have fallen down
or away, pale before these ruptures of light,

because we are made from such love, to be loved.
Yes, we are made from such love, to be love.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Julia Caesar Unsplash

Pulling Me up into Strength

You have stretched out your hands
towards me.

I am unable, yet you are not judging me.
Your eyes only searching.

I want to have you search me out.
Don't stop at the closed doors.

I am unable, to bring solutions to the table
and it is your voice in everything.

Inside out, the petals have turned fragrance
through the window,
where we should have looked in the garden
and the bees are seeking for hidden flowers
in the bathroom steam.

Outside in, I have turned the laundry of my soul
into the waters, wrung them out, twisted them dry
and hung them into the sky of high places.

The trees have been watching me.
They are neither waiting, nor hoping.
They are love in the soil, not needing to hope,
because love is the greatest.

It is you I find standing, when I fall down
and it is you
reaching out for me,
pulling me up into strength for this hard time.

Jenneth Graser

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

You Are Known Child

You are known Child.

Crunching the snow
where the frost bites your nose.

All of last night's falling, covers the mud-slush of
yesterday's mistakes.

You are loved Child.

Each day piled up into ice on the lake
where holes are dug by the fishermen searching for
a catch of comfort on bitter days.

You are remembered Child.

There is a lot of forget around
when too much information presses you into
too many invitations demanding your attention.

The snow will bring you back to your childself.

Your thoughts are noted Child.

Each of your prayers is a personal
relationship when boots are taken off around
a log fire cracking the room into warmth

and you thaw into simplicity
with everything that really matters.

Jenneth Graser

Photography David Mark

The Sound of Amen - this newly released collection of 100 poems for download at Noisetrade is birthed out of a one year pilgrimage with God through difficulty, loss, the end of seasons and the beginning of new things. Discover an adventure into the deep places of your listening heart.