For One Who Is Unable to Leave the House

For One Who Is Unable to Leave the House

When the world has folded in
and left you stranded in your own home,
may you remember that you are not alone.
While you are not living as freely as you once did,
may you remember that you are held
in the earnest circles of prayer, 
by someone who may not know you,
and yet loves you, dear Child of God.
May you be free of the harsh filter
that would narrow your vision into pain and criticism
so that you see in your past a trail of fruit and wonder,
God’s goodness as it has unfolded throughout your life.
Even now, as you live with loss, may the angels
soften your sitting, your resting, your dreaming
and open for you the flowers of beautiful thought,
reminding you that you have gifts yet to give—
kindness, love, and the enduring leaning toward God.
 

 

This poem is dedicated to those whom I know and love who are no longer able to leave their house freely and are living within the space of their home. It’s also my prayer for everyone I don’t know who suffers the loneliness and isolation of having an illness or injury that keeps them from participating in the life they once had. May you be blessed.

~Cheryl

 

Swan Photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash.

Mother and Child Photo by Cheryl Racanelli. San Alfonso Retreat House.

 

 

 

 

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Monday Morning Mary: Heart Surgery

Heart Surgery

When she whispered
I am speaking through your heart
I knew she meant not to me.
She who is larger than the stars
gave promise to shrink into my heart,
become a mystery to solve a mystery.

Comes the day, I pray hello
as I open the door to my heart
and fall asleep.
The doctor enters with his lovely light
looking for places that need more light.
She who relaxes with the angels welcomes him,
answers his questions
until my heart is lit and love
radiates cleanly in every direction.

I awaken to a heart in me
that is neither muscle nor drum,
but glowing space, a vessel
of soft light to guide my way,
a mystery to solve a mystery.

 

Mother Mary with the morning sun above and a small green orb of light below, a blessing.

Monday Morning Mary: Lapse

Lapse

The saints become silent
and the angels freeze.
Alone before dawn
I feel nothing or no one divine.
Only my broken friend, fear,
lingers like an old dog.
At times like this
whom else can I count on?

In the darkness, I am a sieve,
holding neither courage nor love.
I wrap myself in a cocoon of blankets
trying to pool what is left.

If only I could remember daybreak
and how the holy ones assemble about me,
a fluid, traveling wreath,
gently coaxing this wisp out of hiding.
 

 

12 Days of Thanksgiving: Day 9, Angels

12 Things I Am Grateful For This Year
Day 9:  Angels

Angels

It is difficult to believe
in angels
but I am learning

I have often said
of my closest calls
that there was nothing
between me and death
but an angel

then I would return
to my quiet illusion
of self-sufficiency

I imagine there are thousands
of rescues that were performed
for me
and I thanked no one
because I did not even feel it
I just got to where I was going

One day I needed help
and I simply asked
do I have a Guardian One
really, or is that just in a museum
painting

I do

an angel
radiant, shapeshifting,
strong enough to hoist a steel bridge,
soft enough to sing with snow,
light enough to recline
on a flower petal,
waiting
for my next call
close or otherwise

~~~

 

Monday Morning Mary: Cradled in the Quilt of Now

Cradled in the Quilt of Now

Stop your churning
and hop up onto the Quilt of Now.

Settle into the soft heart at the center,
and let it cradle you like a hammock.

The scalloped edges are wings that will lift you
from the muddy fields of the future
and the weeds of regret
to exactly where you are meant to be.

You can thrash,
or you can relax
enchanted by the stars
like a baby seeing them for the first time,
recognizing in the vast space overhead
the angels you knew before you got here.