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

  • Dew Change

    The thermometer affirms our arrival at Autumn, the droplets on the deck declare in dew that the air is too cold for the water, changing it to liquid on the glassy,  warm surface. I wonder, does the Living Water perform the same miracle when it touches my heart? do change….

  • Timber over Time

    Building a marriage is timber over time, the on purpose-ness of candles on the table on a run-of-the-mill Saturday night illuminating the daily gift that says, “I made something for you.” It’s a pile of firewood carried through the cold, banked against the night’s chill. Opera music, loud on the stereo while dinner cools and…

  • Surrender {a #poem}

    My husband and I recently spent some time away for our anniversary and I discovered that in confined quarters–our all in one room on the island–it’s hard to find personal space.  My husband’s solution? To not having to listen to me all the time?  Turn off his hearing aids. Smile.  It made me think about…

  • A very clean 2013

    Well, it seems that way anyway. Clean and all. Open, blank, unwritten on. And the smashing white/blue sky is limitless today. How unlike our skies to be that way this day. But it is (a gift! Thank you, God.) SO, making the most of a Beautiful Good Thing I will do what any ordinary human…

  • Pressed into Joy

    Golden oil in  a bottle liquid light refracting sun in shimmers a mirrored shape  reflects on the surface and I wonder at the drop, drop, drops of light as they drip, drip, drip down. All this tasting joyfulness because something was crushed and pressed, leaving light.

Leave a Reply