Monday Morning Mary: Heart Surgery

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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



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

My Angel

12 Things I Am Grateful For This Year
Day 9:  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

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,
for my next call
close or otherwise


Mother Mary


Monday Morning Mary: Cradled in the Quilt of Now

Cradled In 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.

Mary in Snow