The Month Before Christmas

Advent Wreath as designed by Wichern (1839)
Source: Rauhes Haus, Hamburg, Germany

Advent hopes and dreams play for thirty days

with Handel’s Messiah hanging in air

its Hallelujah Chorus rising up

as people join in, most without knowing

what they praise until swept up in the swell

of spirit’s irresistible waves and

once there drowning their will willingly and

becoming part of God’s plan—hearts open

to the pain and joy of it—as if they

were pawns, first line of defense, taking and

giving no offence but grace, always grace

when part of this ocean wave and Advent—

ready to celebrate Christ’s Mass and then

celebrate the Second Coming—  Amen 

Posted for Claudia's Poetics– Alice and Advent– they both start with an A at dVerse Poets Pub.  Another thought exists here: Jewish-Pagan-Quaker.

Copyright © 2013  S.L.Chast

Hallelujah (after Leonard Cohen)

I've heard tell of Biblical love
the Song of Songs and Ruth and Sarah

and Jesus and God and Muhammad too.

It embraces weak and strong and
rings out beyond the words of song
to unite us for the first Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

We are not Samson and Delilah

We are not Joseph and Mary
We are new ideas of faith in action.

We see Love as the way:
I will not betray your trust but serve my God

In ways I must including Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

We are not heavenly angels
We neither sin nor do we stay pure
We are humans forgiving as God does us.

You need not be perfect for my love

Love and faith grow as one

It’s hard but it’s the way to Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time when you hid from me
What you felt I should not see
But those days have passed us by, haven’t they?
And now our souls touch skin each day
We are naked with each other
And every breath we draw is Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

We are naked too with God
Aware of how much we do not know

And spending most of our lives learning.
Yet living in a cloud of unknowing
We feel blinded by the light we see

Light and Dark together sing Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

We work to help the Kingdom Come
God's will be done on earth
As it is in heaven. we work to earn

Our daily bread, to stretch forgiveness

Round the truth, my God, it’s hard

We’re grateful for every Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

We do our best, it’s not enough
but we remember to taste God’s joys
In every way God tries to show us pleasure.

And even though we make mistakes

we inch along the way God makes
And praise in every language Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Written and posted for Kim's Sunday Mini Challenge ~ Hallelujah at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, with thanks and apologies to Leonard Cohen.  Please do not copy or re-post, as I do not have his permission and have no copyright.

Thank you,

Susan    

The Gravestone

Buttons Killed, photo by Jennifer MacNeill 

“Buttons Killed July 4^th 1948”

reads the stone that leans against the wall

and gives its room an air of solemnity.

Buttons was a cherished pet now dead,

sacrificed for being in the wrong

place at the wrong time.  A rat did it. 

Or is it what it says?  A politic

brag that Buttons killed Independence

Day in Nineteen Forty Eight.  As if.

Buttons may have tried as Israel

declared independence,  Gandhi was

assassinated and Cold War raged.

But nothing yet has broken this home,

not loss of loved ones nor setbacks in

economy or desired outcomes.

Buttons’ stone has existed for years,

its flowers and greens have dried and now

it has become innocent again.

Posted for Artistic Interpretations with Margaret - 

"The Collector" through the lens of Jennifer MacNeill 

at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads.

Copyright © 2013  S.L.Chast

Do Not Shoot

Sing praises to God in every language,

My Friends.

More voices soar in song this time of year

Enough to heal the sick, feed the hungry

and spark a new world built on memory

of miracles past, of harder times passed

of small beginnings that grew beyond all

imagination and experience

So sing! 

Sing praises to God in every language,

and let this vibration of love in sound

pass through us to earth and sky and cross all

boundaries in hearts and minds, sing so we

atone, attune, and unite so strongly

that we never want to let go the notes!

Sing so

sound opens the doors of perception and

we take a different road home, create

new roads through forgiveness. Hallelujah

for projects we work together, bridges

and water lines, schools and nuclear free zones

Praises for this reconciliation,

My Friends

Posted for Kim's Sunday Mini Challenge ~ Hallelujah 

at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

Copyright © 2013  S.L.Chast

Indiscretion

See the bruises

on the apples

and the pears?

Clearly they

have been touching

each other.

Openly,

intimately,

and often.

You and I

rubbed together

discretely—

Not enough

to burst into

flame or cheers—

Not even

enough to draw

suspicion.

The petals,

though, in our rooms,

show great stress

Preferring

always to be

in flowers.

Posted for Samuel's Form for All: Fifty-Five Shades of Grey

 at dVerse Poets Pub.

Copyright © 2013  S.L.Chast

What's in a name?

What’s in a name? A bit of history,

a history of influence and even

imperialism masquerading

as convenience: Mayan do n0t exist

and neither do Eskimo, names applied

from outside by people with another

language and by anthropologists who

make boxes to store people in as if

naming was innocent.  As if they had

no power to resist.  And that’s not all.

My first time was in middle school German

class where Susan became Susannah and  

I finally looked up “O Susannah” to understand

why she should not cry when a man speaks non-

sense and pretends to speak for another

culture.  She should get angry and should rage.

She should restore the names of languages

and villages, say  Tzotzil and Tzeltal

in Mexico, say Aleut, Inuit

and Yupik in Alaska, Canada

and Greenland. And that’s not all.

Posted for Isadora's Out of Standard: Eskimo 

at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

Copyright © 2013  S.L.Chast