It’s Almost Here–Hearts on Pilgrimage-Poems & Prayers

It’s the fourth day of Christmas and I’m sitting at my dining table while shadows play on the Advent wreath and the dishwasher hums.

The post-holiday lull has begun, that in-between time where memories of enjoying my family’s company, complete with six noisy grandkids, partner with a looking-forward frame of mind to a new year and a new book.

Hearts on Pilgrimage-Poems & Prayers is allllmoooost finished; the final touches are being added to the cover and I am working on the electronic download of the book as well.  Since I’m self-publishing the process is a little nerve-wracking as all the details of content, design and cover are up to me (and a remarkable design gal for who I am eternally grateful.) Come mid-January we should be ready to launch. I so look forward to having some poetic inspiration available and in readers’ hands soon. The book will be available on Amazon and orderable wherever books are sold.

If you’d like be one of the first to receive an announcement of the book’s release, just click HERE.

In the meantime, may I offer you the title poem?

Pilgrimage

Since I am coming to that holy room…

I shall be made thy music. -John Donne

Our journey home begins

daily with the sun. And a map.

Oriented by true north, that

compass which magnets

us in subtle, insistent ways, we move.

Deep and invisible, His song draws

us on as we come ’round again

in a thousand turns to the sound

of that voice.

We are Peregrinus, pilgrims

wandering place to place,

straining for an echo of melody,

words to a song we forgot we knew.

Forever we crease and fold our maps,

spilling tea as we travel, stain and blur

lines as we learn the way.

We look up. Scan the signs,

slow down, take note.

*****

No. Not a map, a musical score,

vellum notes traced over time

played on heart’s harp, tuning

our ears ever more finely to the

pitch, not of His voice, but His tent,

that dwelling place where we finally

meno with Him. Home at last.

Similar Posts

  • English Lesson, Kindergarten

    Across the pencils pointed skyward like so many word-wielding swords past the gray and steel of overflowing desks filled with orphaned papers stashed, crumpled askew over the carpet-bland, sturdy, useable home to small and hopeful feet to the doorway–closed. Through it comes life and noise and limbs, any moment now– eager hearts, chattering faces, souls…

  • Juneteenth 2015

    Feeling the rain come cave-cool air, white and empty but for the breeze. Still water rushing the trees, sleepy birds sitting at rest call out the change while tone on tone chimes echo from far below. The drops fall – spare, invisible, too few. My dry, gray lawn is thirsty and longs for a drenching, healing…

  • Thanks Giving

    Friends and family leave words on screens and phone lines, dropping voices and laughter like golden pendants rippling across the surface of my morning. Bookends of baking–pies first and the turkey last– include potatoes, The Green Bean Casserole and sweet potatoes in between. Chimes outside echo on the warm wind of a rare November day,…

  • Smashed to Pieces

    I’ve just finished reading Jennifer Dukes Lee’s new book “Love Idol”** and am becoming more aware each day of how I fashion my own not-gods out of man made materials. Last week I wrote and published (for less than 24 hours) a post about World Vision’s decision regarding same sex hiring practices.  I wanted to add…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *