By Ilse Kramer
He is the song within the silence
He is the heart that beats in all our hearts
He is the knife that clears the wilderness
He is the road for every pilgrim
He is the key to paradise regained
He is the falling star the rising sun
He is the tears of all repentant sinners
He bleeds and falls
And yet He is the Lord forever
Forevermore
By Terri Leander
During this sacred season of Lent, may we observe the circumstances of our lives that are representations of our individual journeys to the crosses that we all bear: whether we express them openly or keep them in the dark tombs of the silence in our souls.
May we use these forty days, for penitence and prayer, building an ever deepening relationship and love for you.
O Thou, Our Great Redeemer, aid us in meditation and contemplation of all which keeps us from fully experiencing Your goodness and mercy.… [Read More]
By Susan Swain Tabor
That rose is free, he said to me
It’s been in its pot for an eternity
No one wants it – and neither do we.
Last chance or it goes into the trash!
I thought that that was rather rash
Seeing that it has potential to last.
Says the tag: Small and delicate is the bloom
A profusion of flowers by the month of June
Thorny but hardy, could blossom many a moon.
Rose, you silently called, I willingly came
We joined hearts in the relationship game
Together in life we lessened our pain.… [Read More]
By May Cornelia Grant
In middle age, in the midst of adversity, I found the gift of faith.
It seemed to be waiting, as if prepared from the beginning.
Above me, dark-stained ceiling beams cast deepening shadows.
Stair railings add another barrier in a set of angles.
Overhead curtains drawn closed above my sofa.
The scene appears: An open-sided shadowbox, a darkened stage.
I lower my head.
Slowly, out of the dusky shadows, a divine gift arrives–my first real prayer:
“God, are You there?”
It is at once a question and acknowledgment.… [Read More]
By Marge Leard
Adeep in tangled mem’ries of dreams gone bad,
What senses morning in this Winter’s cold?
No Summer brightness,
No yellow globe of piercing light,
No azure sky to greet my day.
Yet blooming in the eastern sky, a stealthy pink assails my lids.,
And I awake.
Not yet six o’clock and pinkness whispers,
“Look! See my beauty as I journey upward to your new day.”
It is quiet, this awakening,
Soft and stealthy as a kiss.
Pinkness spreads,
Acquires a golden streak,
Tinges cloud and sky alike.… [Read More]
By
Hope Madison (for Ruth Edwards)
Maine’s twilight winds remain yet crisp,
Circumference of the moon a wisp.
Sheep huddle in the friendly barn,
Oblivious of colored yarn
Turned into sweaters, mitts and socks,
The while grandmother hums and rocks.
Like Hope the sheep are very sure
Their thoughts of you will long endure.
Hope Madison was a faithful member of Central Church for many years. She had cerebral palsy and was confined to a wheelchair. She died in 1997. Hope signed her poems: “Who Else,” “ Nobody Else,” “The Unknown Soldier,” or “Sosew.”
I like hugging and laughing.
Hi, I am Rose!
I never stop moving,
As everyone knows.
Don’t blow a promise,
But blow me a kiss.
A weasel’s a weasel
It is what it is.
When I’m talking to God,
I’m doing my prayering,
And I do hope He hears
Each word I am sayering.
Rose Dunlap
Rose Dunlap, a Kindergartner at the Martin Luther King Elementary School is a very good gymnast.
by
Susan Swain Tabor
A Change of Heart
Winter
White
Barren
Dead
Wait
Footprints!
Rabbit…and …deer
Look
Faint buds on maples
Dormant
Not dead…regenerating
Winter
White
Waiting
Wondrous
Susan Swain Tabor is the great-granddaughter of CCC’s first minister, Leonard Swain, and is currently writing his biography. She is first and foremost a mother and a grandmother. Careers have been counseling disabled persons, agency management in the rehabilitation field, and general management and sales in a calendar company. She currently is a manager of family owned commercial real estate. She received her BA in English literature from the University of Colorado at Boulder in 1966 and a M.A.… [Read More]
By
Marcie Zuehlke
My friend died last night
He was mortal after all, at least his body is gone
His spirit will always be here ready to answer a thorny
Question with home-grown simplicity
I was beginning to think he had the cancer licked
Experimental treatments worked,
Tumors receded and disappeared
I was beginning to think God realized
He’d made a mistake in calling
Ken so soon and was going to make things right
But no, the Almighty had other plans
But I believe someday we will see Ken on the road to Emmaus
Marcia Zuehlke has been a nurse and worked for Hospice while raising a family. … [Read More]
By Ilse Kramer
In the distance the swans
Looking like white clouds
Looking like black clouds
Glide through the ice on the pond
The small white winged birds
In the spun sugar bushes
Say nothing
At all
How many flakes
In a snowball
How many tears
On your lashes
Night falls
At noontime
