beyond the days

sitting
in the morning

the music strums and hums
flittering and flickering overhead

light
comes in

glistening shimmering
illuminating
what so delicately hid
in the darkness
before

this post is the fortieth post of this little blog's life
40
the number of these days

the number of the days read this week on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday...
in the story of regret and redemption...
perhaps the saddest reading of the year

"When the the Lord saw how great was man's wickedness on earth,
and how no desire that his heart conceived
was ever anything but evil,
He regretted that He had made man on the earth,
and His heart was grieved.

So the Lord said "I will wipe out from the earth the men whom I created,
and not only the men,
but also the beasts
and the creeping things
and the birds of the air,
for I am sorry that I made them."

But Noah found favor with the Lord.


these are days of hope and mystery...
[I seem to remember a song...]

Beyond the days of hope and mystery
we see a light of faith renewed,
and in our longing we thirst for guidance
to walk with you day by day.

Forty days and nights,
you guide the steps of our journey.
May your presence be felt
in the whisper of your voice.

Not on bread alone
are we to walk on this journey.
Speak the words that give life
to the yearnings of our hearts.

In your hands, O God,
we feel the touch of your guidance.
Keep us safe in your care:
may your gentleness be there.

On our Lenten path
we see the dawn of a new day.
Be our vision of hope;
be the promise of our lives.

Beyond the days of hope and mystery
we see a light of faith renewed,
and in our longing we thirst for guidance
to walk with you day by day,
to walk with you day by day.
                                Beyond The Days
                                           Ricky Manalo,CSP
so maybe I should write of Lent

of will
and light
and hearts
and crosses

  

    

  

I walk along streets now familiar
but they are not my own
beneath me I see their
whisper
they speak
into my silence

in the rubbish and the way it is crumpled

in the chewed, spit out, discarded gum tread under foot

in the chipped marble tiles

in the smallest of pebbles

and century worn stones of perhaps the Appian Way....

bearing me
accompanying me
holding me
a comfort to me
the guidance I long for along this journey

this journey I fall upon
this journey I cannot and do not walk alone

I look up
a father and his daughter walk to school
he has her hello kitty back pack on his back
and her little hand in his
and what would be such a load on her small shoulders
is nothing on his...

I look down
where my eyes have become accustomed to looking
for with all the anal retentive obsessiveness
with garbage and recycling that there is over here
somehow the 'pick up after your dog thing' has not caught on
so everyday there's new 'dirt' to walk around...

but I am blessed
with light...
with gentle whispers from the street...

and today with little confetti crosses
strewn along the sidewalks
at first I only smile
but eventually I have to bend down and gather a few to make my own

little crosses
everywhere
so little
so light

and as the street whispers with love
bearing me always

I bear my little crosses
deeply hidden in a darkened pocket
held safely touched gently
never seen
never named
waiting for their sweet redemption

the music's light changes...

looking very much like an ultra sound...of life....

and perhaps just maybe 

in this land of olive trees

there will be a branch brought back 

by the mouth of a bird of the air

in hope of life again

anew....

the shuttered window in the conference room where I work