Old and New Year Ditties - Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)

I. New Year met me somewhat sad:

Old Year leaves me tired,

Stripped of favourite things I had

Baulked of much desired:

Yet farther on my road to-day

God willing, farther on my way.



New Year coming on apace

What have you to give me?

Bring you scathe, or bring you grace,

Face me with an honest face; 

You shall not deceive me:


Be it good or ill,
be it what you will,

It needs shall help me on my road,

My rugged way to heaven, please God.



II. Watch with me, men, women, and children dear,

You whom I love, for whom I hope and fear,

Watch with me this last vigil of the year.

Some hug their business, some their pleasure-scheme;

Some seize the vacant hour to sleep or dream;

Heart locked in heart some kneel and watch apart.



Watch with me blessed spirits, who delight

All through the holy night to walk in white,

Or take your ease after the long-drawn fight.

I know not if they watch with me:
I know 
They count this eve of resurrection slow,

And cry, 'How long?' with urgent utterance strong.



Watch with me Jesus, in my loneliness:

Though others say me nay, yet say Thou yes;

Though others pass me by, stop Thou to bless.

Yea, Thou dost stop with me this vigil night;

To-night of pain, to-morrow of delight:

I, Love, am Thine; Thou, Lord my God, art mine.


III. 

Passing away, saith the World, passing away:

Chances, beauty and youth sapped day by day:

Thy life never continueth in one stay.

Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey

That hath won neither laurel nor bay?

I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May:

Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay

On my bosom for aye.

Then I answered: Yea.



Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away: 

With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play;

Hearken what the past doth witness and say:

Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array,

A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay.

At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day

Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay:

Watch thou and pray.

Then I answered: Yea.



Passing away, saith my God, passing away:

Winter passeth after the long delay: 

New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray,

Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May.

Though I tarry wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray:

Arise, come away, night is past and lo it is day,

My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say.

Then I answered: Yea.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

O Emmanuel

O Emmanuel, Rex et legifer noster,

exspectatio Gentium, et Salvator earum:

veni ad salvandum nos, Domine, Deus noster.

O Emmanuel, our king and our lawgiver,

the hope of the nations and their Saviour:

Come and save us, O Lord our God.

O Emmanuel - recorded live December 22, 2015 - St. Ann Chapel at National Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa, Doylestown, PA.

After the Storm

Summer evening

With rain clouds clinging to the wide expanse at the top of the sky,

Even while sunset falls thick and cheerful as the crickets in the meadow,

Orangepink streaming through the emerald trees

Heavy with full leafed boughs.

I'm driving northbound,
Homeward with the windows down and a sad song on my radio

Curving through the ancient forests,

Not even tamed by the first settlers,

Left untouched, you can still find arrow heads in the streams.

The clouds above are dark, and menacing,

Threatening to burst at any moment,

Yet completely out of place in this pleasant summer evening.

The golden light of clarity encircles the horizon,

Stillness enters my being, and a smile across my lips.

At the top of the next hill, sheets of rain pour straight down from the clouds above,

Cold and heavy, I hear them pelt my little open car,

I feel the splashes on my suntanned arms,

Little daggers fall through the sunroof and jostle my hair,

But it doesn't pool.

I don't close the windows.

I don't shut the sunroof.

The rain is so fast and so hard,

I seem to drive right through it.

The sun does not blink in it's descent.

I remain vulnerable and yet unmarred.

I turn up the stereo.

I am not even damp.

The outside of the car is washed clean,

But the door insides are dry.

My hair is blown by the cool breeze that comes

in the clear blue north of the storm.

The temperate air up here is pure bliss.

My face is dewy, but streakless.

I am cleansed.

The clouds above have an ending.

I see it, now

for the first time in months.

My smile deepens.

This too shall pass.

Jennifer D. Behnke

July 30, 2015  - 12:49am

Winding Path

moving pictures in clouds and trees through which sunlight streams

evergreen towers in a quiet forest save the crunch of leaves underfoot

and a green so deep, i dive into the pockets of cool darkness beckoning

tell me your secrets and lead me further and further and beyond the light

past a forgotten gravesite, and a broken cart wheel

and foundations crumbled around a solitary scorched hearth

so dark i'd swear it was still smouldering

and further beyond the iron mines and the battered pines

and the streams of water and light running off the mountain

a cliff to rest, on which lies a vine long since fallen from the weight of too many swings

and before me chasm so wide the way around long since abandoned

(a pause)

the return to this place, from which I ran so long and so far...

a shaft of light appears, shimmering before me. 

A way beyond the fears and the chasm of doubt.

Beyond the forest and the mountain, and even the city where I've hid these long years. 

I drink in the light, and I bless it. I am whole, and the chasm but a memory.

Jennifer D. Behnke, May 10, 2013

A Dish That is Broken

The engine ground to a halt

and sputtered 

and went cold

And all sound ceased

And the heat dissipated

And the field was still

And the rain fell

The clock stopped

and the gears locked 

and the arms went limp

and the lights faded 

And the shadows crept

And the fear came

And the sky darkened

His heart stopped

And his light left

And my mind froze

And my bones turned brittle 

And my legs became stone

And my heart lead

And my soul ash 

Now I stand 

With no path

With nothing left

But ache

And empty arms

And dirt 

And pebbles

And silence.

Jennifer D. Behnke, August 14, 2014

Phoenix Song #2

Stretching my wings as the first rays of dawn 

Pink and throbbing burst over the horizon.

I am trembling now, too weak to walk on my own.

Yet too strong to sit amidst these dying embers

Charred remains of what was. 

There is nothing left of my old self,

That ancient and confident life of half-opened eyes
Which searched the distance for a glimmer.

She is dead, the one who stood sentinel, stoic, on guard.

Her end came with honesty at last

Not the struggle itself, but the answer
Leaving no room for hope.

So she left.
Burned up, stood up, walked out.

Made a choice and chose to live against all odds. 

Knowing that a life without hope was not worth living.

And so the path will clear.
Trust it, always. 

Emerged from the fire, newly minted
Scorched and scarred, but glimpsing restoration.

She will again grow wise and diligent 

confident and strong backed.

But she will never close her eyes again.

She has survived the crush.

She will bear the pain and bring the world love.

Jennifer D. Behnke - October 24, 2014

Naked without shame

Naked without shame

We laughing

Thought it a game

Surviving the flames

still breathing

I took your name

Home we created

and tending

the babes we were fated

Darkness not abated

and searching

You never satiated.

The road has been hard

with mourning

better, worse, scarred.

Laughter is mute, marred

in anger 

you're always barred

Naked without shame

I daring 

Now stake my claim

Can you do the same

finally

naked without shame?

Jennifer D. Behnke - February 26, 2015

One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII - By Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

      Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

      

      I've heard it in the chillest land

      And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Repetition

I give 

I give myself

I give myself away

I give myself away to you.

you stand

you stand there

you stand there silently

you stand there silently ignoring me.