Longing or Loneliness

Is it loneliness or longing,
This cancer eating my heart,
Aching white hot through the night,
Raging on wildly all the long day?

This gnawing pang that threatens
To swallow me whole,
Like the cavernous pit of pain,
That marked your exit from my world.

I offered you my suffering,
As a testament of my love,
Untranquilized, full and raging,
And still you left, or were never there to meet me.

It is only at sunset when comes a brief release,
The clouds easing into gilded stripes,
The land settling down,
As a wearied soul prepares for death.

There is no grief at sunset, just peace, and colors
And eternity which washes between us.
A sky which silently waits for empty arms to give up,
Our strangled cries to cease.

This golden honeyed hour of sweetness
Is when I feel closest to you.
We are one, joined as overlapping spirits
in a sea of glowing warmth.
Jennifer D. Behnke - September 1, 2014 - 9:53PM

Fears

That first night
after I heard the news
after I knew the result
the futility of it all settled in my heart.

I wept bitter tears
for myself
and for you
my sweet littlest one.

Mom told me
that the nuns taught her that
"A woman offers her body
as sacrifice
on the altar of Motherhood".
I know this sacrifice.

Your brother and sister cost me
thirteen hours in surgery, twice
thirty percent of my right leg
three days of my life in neurosurgical ICU
three months of mobility
three years of singing.

But through it all I had them
to cling to
to hold on to
to nurture
to wonder at
to behold.

I have grown stronger
every day
that I may watch them grow
and live and learn and laugh
and that I may love them
with my doubly grateful heart.


My littlest love,
I will give you
all that I am as sacrifice.
I ask only that you stay.
Even if my arms be too weak to lift you
Even if my eyes dim that I may not see you
Even if my brain splinters to fragments
and I be utterly unrecognizable to myself.

Stay in my arms
That I might cherish you
with every moment I have left.
Let my sacrifice not be in vain.

Jennifer D. Behnke (February 17, 2014)

With Thee Conversing - A.D. Hope (1907 - 2000)

Sign on the side of the road leading into my hometown - Barrett Road, Vernon, NJ

Talking with you each day would seem
To pass unnoticed into night,
And, borne on that enchanted stream,
Time but its pulse of dark and light;

And even busied or apart,
I feel the currents restless sweep:
A conversation fills my heart,
Or voices answer in my sleep.

Nor does it move by words alone,
Beneath our smiles, our talk, beneath
All words, a colloquy goes on
Which runs as strong and still as death.

Where did it rise, that mighty flow
On which chance travelers, we embark?
What cordilleras feed with snow
Its cataracts raging through the dark,

I can not guess, nor yet foresee
What hour the flood, as we descend,
Will turn and sweep us to the sea
In which all rivers have their end.

Talking with you, I cease to care
Where the springs rise and where they flow;
The goal of all my search is here,
And here my everlasting Now. 

Ten years ago, I sang David Evan Thomas's setting of this poem. It popped into my head this morning, and I was again stunned by the beauty of the lines. I'm going to have to program this set (Grace &Stir: Three Poems by A.D. Hope) again in the near future.

Nothing Gold Can Stay - Robert Frost (1894-1963)

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So Dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.

I am not yours - Sara Teasdale (1884 - 1933)

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind. 


_____________________

One of the perks of my new position is listening to choral music, and sometimes you come across a composer you never heard of who captures the music innate within one of your favorite poets. 
I Am Not Yours - Z. Randall Stroope  

Martha's Serenity of Mind - Father Bede Jarrett, O.P. (1881-1934)

I can not go forward until I have effected the subjection of myself; and when finally I overcome and enter into my kingdom, then only shall I achieved perfect freedom. I must begin with this, and thus I see the necessity of acquiring a spirit of detachment from all things in the sense of subordinating my will to the will of God, realizing by faith that I can not escape from it., that whatever happens comes to pass only because God has allowed it in His wisdom and His love. I must frequently meditate on this divine will.

Then again, I must try to be perfectly truthful in life; that my life should correspond absolutely to my thoughts. Once I start posing or pretending, I become a slave to pretense. Never shall I free myself until I revert to myself and am not content to act as others expect of me. Compromise, just because it is a lie can not be allowed within these limits that circumscribe truth. To be prudent, to be on my guard, yet to keep myself undisturbed, to possess my soul in patience-that is the great secret of life. Especially in these days, when everything is at a rush and hurry, I must take care to be in perfect serenity of mind, lest I add to the disturbance of existence and break in upon my peace of soul and perfect freedom, without which spiritual life is rendered impossible. - Father Bede Jarrett, O.P.


My Aunt Judy and I had a wonderful conversation over breakfast one morning. A few months later she handed this meditation for the feast of St. Martha to me. I've been carrying it with me for the past year. It has helped me to effect a restructuring of my priorities to be better centered and calm in the wake of some pretty rough storms this past year.

With all my heart

with all my heart
i wish

to sing you a song to make you smile
to hold you safe in my arms a while
to dance with you resting upon my shoulder
to dream of days when you will grow older
to laugh with you as I caress you awake
to cry with you should your heart break
to feel you again beneath my skin
to nestle you close under my chin
to watch you thrive in our house of mirth
to wrap you in cotton instead of earth

My darling boy, my angel, my own
with all my heart
i want you home.