The Beautiful Man

There is a bench
in a garden, weathered,
the wood worn,
knots coiled where moss lingers
on the fringes of time.

Here she sits side by side
with the Beautiful Man.

He has taken her hand
where no words are spoken.

The walls around the garden
do not withhold from her
a single thing.

There is growth perpetual where
conversation has folded
between the palms of their hands.

She comes here to brew in stillness,
to feel the rush immaterial fade,
to merge with what is eternal -

To feel the flavours between them
infuse.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 4 prompt - brew

Artist - Emma Lazauski

The Realisation of Unfurling Wings

A feeling of spring
has for some time
weighed anchor at the base of her soul.

Pressing against her ribcage
all winter.

Wings against a cocoon, urging.

Her heart is threatening to
break out of confinement
and live outside, under the sky, for good.

She throws open the doors of her wardrobe
to really see: dust, congestion, profusion.

She pulls out piece after piece,
of stifled garments that no longer serve,

Until they are able to hang free, breathe,
be seen.

She gives everything that clutters
a new life, a new home.

Spring
bursts through her core with
a green, green song.

She feels somehow bare
in the realisation of
unfurling wings.

Today is a day for flying.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 3 Prompt - wardrobe

Artist - Christian Schloe

The Remembrance of Paint

The pages have long been

At rest between folders in drawers.

The watercolours parched as the Mojave.

Brushes have gathered dust

In the shadow of curtains.

The heart of the artist, asleep.

Wake up, Dear One, to colour 

In the music of life around you.

The differentiation of tone in one leaf,

The feathers of that bird caught up in nectar.

Pay attention again to the longings.

Wake up, oh Sleeper,

Rise into the remembrance of paint.

Make all things new for your easel,

It is time to begin again.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days 

Prompt Day 2 - Paint

Artist credit - unknown

Grace of the Here and Now

Over time the elements have hewn out of
mountains, secret passageways.

Canyons slice into deep places
the sun only reaches at certain angles.

But if you come with a heart willing,
the sun will eventually beam down on you.

If you walk out of shadows, the dust motes will
shimmer with the occasional insect flashing.

The sun will illuminate the pristine
stream that funnels out this part of the earth.

You will walk through the waters
and drink in the warmth on your skin.

Feel the stones weathered year upon year
smooth, under the soles of your feet.

Feel your heart respond as you walk
in the grace of the here and now.

Jenneth Graser

Photo credit unknown

You Will Find Your Flight

A double transition occurs
when your outward journey
mirrors the journey of your heart.

Outward change does not
clamour so, when inward
resolution has been made.

Forgive well, travel memory
with tenderness.

Map out newly explored terrain
in such a way
that other pilgrims may benefit.

Observe the larger hand of grace
at work.

The heart of a traveller is called
to find rest within,
so that restless urges do not drive
the motion.

Travel deep, dear Pilgrim,
find the peace you are searching for.

Travel high, dear Pilgrim,
taste the stars and drink the rain.

There is so much ahead.
You won't be driven.
You will be deeply moved.

You will find your flight.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Daniel Deskridge

Marvellous Things

Learn to travel within the
present moments of time
before you phone a travel agent.

Mark off significant realms -
do your research well.

Be comfortable with
unknown unmapped places.

You may travel the inner places
with peace and no judgement.

Explore beyond what you know.

You can be OK with heading
for shores dangerous.

You can be generous towards
yourself, and let the dust settle,
be blown away.

God has been known to shape
marvellous things out of dust.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - http://www.jenndalyn.com/work/mixed-media-artwork/travel-art/

Gracious Second Chances

There are maps of the world
decoupaged onto the skin of my soul.
Lines follow voyages made,
once upon a time.

Old passports stamped in airports,
destinations expired.

All the longings folded neatly
and arranged in every suitcase
you own, will not wear out on these roads.

Traverse the terrain internal
before you pack your bags.

Cross timelines of memory,
jet lag of large expanses covered.
Surrender into the light of kind perusal.

Each memory dug up as tarnished remainders
is willingly given into the hands of
gracious second chances.

There is a mapmaker for pilgrims
who long to travel.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - jenndalyn.com

A Place Between All Places

I enter the gangway
with my fellow travellers
and pack my overnighter
into cabin hold.

I look eagerly onto the runway.

There is not one iota of guilt
in my cells, singular or otherwise.

I feel the surge of being lifted
high above the clouds judgemental
into places mercy lives.

People are more human
seated side-by-side in close proximity.

Flights of elevation
bring us closer to what Heaven
considers possible,
and angels may be seen
above jet engines on the wing.

Every flight attendant offers
pleasantries, minds are left to wander.

A place between all places,
a way to all ways made.

I am flying to an
island off the South Pacific.

I think I will head for the
mossy tundras after that
and have someone row me
through arterial river systems
where animals who have
not been taught to fear
the great beast of man
may curiously pause,

Look up for a moment
and resume what animals
do on tundra plains.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - http://arcticadventuretravelblog.com

Enemies Made Friends

You have my attention.

I have never left you, I never will.
You are my child, my very own.

I am committed to you, always.

Expectations are lifted
Where forgiveness may flow.

There is a great feast for enemies
Made friends.

See how they feast together
Side by side at the same table,
Laughing, sharing the cup.

I break the fresh loaves of bread
Into pieces, so everyone has
More than enough.

The masks are long
Turned to ash in the furnace.

Eyes that are open to the light
May see.

Hands that have laid down weapons
Are free to be shaken in greeting, held.

Faces may behold
What I have created, my love in each heart.

Human to human come to the table,
Come and break bread.

Drink from the cup overflowing,
Child to child, make friends.

Jenneth Graser

Photo credit unknown

Yet, he would kneel for you

His vast intelligence
Called a universe into mathematical being.

Andromeda, Tucana, Triangulum, Centaurus.

Yet, he would kneel for you
With a towel wrapped around his body

To present you with a bowl.

He would take your feet, one by one,
Swirl them in warm water,

Wash them carefully.

Pour fresh water over them and take them
Into his towel to be dried,

To be clean.

Jenneth Graser

Artist: Robert Gilroy, SJ. More at http://www.prayerwindows.com/

Now Here, Now There

Back and forth the interpretation
Of events vacillate
Now here, now there.

Now you are leaping from the stern
Of a great yacht into crystal seas
Receiving your hilarity.

Now you are on the verge of a cliff
Wondering how you got there,
Terrified.

Now you are with the birds swooping
Over rooftops, free to come, go
Alight.

Now you are carrying loaded
Baggage from one train platform to
Another, getting lost easily.

Then you are finding a map well worn
By other eager travellers, discerning
Wisdom appears as graffiti on the
Walls, unbidden.

Truth arises from the gutter,
Where ferns grow in earnest.

Up the side of half a mountain
With half a mountain to go.

The view will only look this way,
This moment,
From here, now.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - Candice Swanepoel

This Dangerous Love

The ocean has risen from the
Boulders with fierce intention.

Grace can be disguised in power.

A surge of purpose can come with
Storms of re-direction.

Nothing is too large or too small
To be noticed, taken in, seen.

The arc of each wave has crested over
Our heads with just enough room to breathe.

The waves will greet the shores
Of every landmass the planet provides.

And we, we too will be met relentless
In ways we do not yet understand.

We will be baptised into what is different.
We will be humbled by love that reminds

But doesn't crush.

We will be safe in the presence of danger,
This dangerous love.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - Clark Little

We will be Pilgrims

We traverse terrain
Cut out of the mountain
By the ones before us,
Who paid the sacrificial cost.

To harrow out a road
In the rock, with guts and sweat
Mixed with granite dust?
Trailing tears.

You may dream of another life,
But fresh perspective is only
Possible when willing
To fork off the trampled path.

We will do the pilgrim thing,
No, we will be
Pilgrims.

Keep my heart out of the stone
With the strength of Kilimanjaro
Rising.

Keep my mind out of the dirt,
But down to the earth
Rooted.

And my spirit, must be kept
Beyond all earthly things:
Keep it with your Spirit

Cumulonimbus soaring.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - Matjaz Cater

Shamah Cloth

There is a child in soft folds of cloth.
She breathes in the fragrance
Of a billion prayers on the altar.

And there is a place for her there,
In the Shamah cloth, enfolded.

She feels the hand stroke her brow,
Ease the troubling thoughts
That alight like crows in the pine
Tree on the garden verge.

A restless bicker of caws
Is hard to silence.

She feels the greeting of a kiss like whispers
On her forehead,
Until every thought flies free.

The pine soughs in the wind
Of his breath on her face.

She can smell the resin he collected
In the night watch, ever wakeful.

She can see the intentions of his
Heart are for her ever good.

Folding deeper into softness of
The Shamah cloth, invitation
Is substance.

She grows into the gift of One who is,
One who is There.

Jenneth Graser

Photo credit unknown

What Hurts and what is Healing

I find myself open to sound,
Quiet on the morning's gift.

Dancing waves of Arabic rhythm
Syncopate with the formation of
Every letter on the page.

There is forgiveness to be released.
Myself reminded, our own treasures
Grow in the blessings we bestow, unmerited.

People wait today
For art to dip into their pain with something
To show how grateful adoration
Appeases loss.

People waiting as a gift between the
Holding walls of my abode.

The gift I capture with my hands
Open wide in thanks, to let each soar away
And settle on my shoulder
Of their own free choice.

I find myself a radiant blessing on the eye's
Reflection of the man who loves me so;
He does not need reminding that his bliss is mine
And mine is to be his, always.

I find myself open, and opening wider.
I find myself new and old, both new and old.

I find myself placed, inside the place
That feels just right for me to be for
Now, alongside what hurts and is healing,

Both: what hurts and what is healing.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Christian Schloe

Pearls in the dark

I am drawn to you looking at
Me from beyond the veil.
On wafts of incense and icon

Your instruments tell tales of
Other places, distant times,
Families.

Where to be all grown up
Looks altogether different.
On woven threads of colour,

Many feet dance as fabric swirls the air.
Prayers sigh from cliff to cliff
In flight between the mountains.

You discover God in the way
Your grandmother tells stories.
Firelight flickers a ritual between

The folds and wrinkles of her face.
You experience the presence of
God in the beating of your drum.

As you light each candle, the words
Fold from the scrolls, chanted.
All of your senses seek and discover

Pearls in the dark; you share so kindly.

Jenneth Graser

Jaisalmer India - photo credit unknown

Taking Some Risks

One of the most special experiences so far this year was when I joined a Poem-a-thon for the first time with Tiferet Journal in April.

Leaping into a writing adventure with fellow poets was such a growing and widening time.  I learnt so much and felt myself stretching to release each poem into the day, a response to each sensitively written prompt.  A poem a day for the whole month of April!

THIS HAS BEEN A YEAR OF TAKING SOME RISKS.

Secondly, the notion of joining a poetry competition was something only for "maybe one day when...".  But my husband encouraged me to go for it and just enter.  Not for the possible outcome, but for the pure pleasure of it.  So I found myself click "enter" as my poems found their way into a first ever poetry competition.

We have been leaving some old seasons behind.  With grateful thanks to God for the richness, growth and great learning curve of the last 7 years those seasons had to offer.

And now we are looking ahead with a, "What's next Pappa?"  And finding it's OK to not know.  To trust.  To embrace the present moment.  To take a leap into something new, and to take some risks.

What are the risks you are being invited to take?

It can be something small, so as to feel almost insignificant.  It can be something you've been wanting to do for a long time, but always felt maybe one day.  It can be something really big.  But you know what it means to you.  And when you step out into that fresh new experience, you know you are never going to be the same again.

Here is a link to my poetry on the Tiferet website: http://tiferetjournal.com/april-2016-poem-a-thon/poems-by-jenneth-graser-2016/
Please also take a look at the wonderful writing of fellow poets and friends I had the privilege to meet: http://tiferetjournal.com/april-2016-poem-a-thon/

My poem Convergence from the Poem-a-thon was published in the Tiferet Spring Journal 2016.  You can subscribe to the Tiferet Journal here: http://tiferetjournal.com/the-journal

Fall on the Snow

A woman once fell upon the snow,
Her heart asking the sky for answers.

The lake spread out in silence
As trees framed each question.

Every part of her surroundings
Accepted her, unconditional.

The sky watched her make angels
In the soft keeping snow.

The tops of the trees shushed her
With a lullaby of pine needles.

The path beside her feet
Asked nothing of her.

And the rock at her back
Kept vigil all the while.

There is a place in the deep woods
That will hold the memory of

The falling of a woman
On the snow.

Jenneth Graser

Cycles that Flow

Rain that falls on the inside of the skin
Hits the roof of the heart
With loud presence.

Gathers in the gutters,
Streams across the walls of flesh
Hitting hard.

Such rain may drive,
Drizzle, splatter, drip
Drench and shower.

The soul may not know
What to do with such a
Downpour.

It is best to allow the rain
To collect in pools of
Reflection.

And to not allow the pools
To dam up
In any way.

Once you have reached a sufficient
Level, you may form
Rivers.

You may flood even,
If you so choose;
Into any place.

It is through rainfall
Heading for the sea of
Eventual evaporation,

That you may once again
Precipitate your way
Into cycles that flow.

Jenneth Graser

Photograph - Hannes Kock, Florian Ortkrass and Briton Stuart Wood - The Rain Room

Misfits

Collect your tears from the face of the sky
Clouds do not refrain.

Be with the dew suspended on the leaf
Drip into the river waiting.

Sigh on the highest mountain breeze
Where it is difficult to breathe.

Open a gift with fingers tentative,
As though it is the only gift you may receive.

Grateful thanks may rise with greater thanks
When borne through the ashes.

Be with roots who remember the music of light
In dark places, go deeper.

Live with an egg in its stages,
On a nest of what is to come.

Be with composting fruit on the manure pile;
A steam of matter rises from loss.

Once you were content to smile at flowers -
Now you bury your nose into scent.

Once you were happy to watch from airport windows -
Now you have booked your flight.

Other travellers have made room for your beauty,
Misfits have joined hands in strange peace.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Moki Mioke