Muir Woods

We escaped the city, rickety split,
in a beat up hoopty-of-a-car
trundling across the Golden Gate Bridge,
winding through the hills of Marin County.
At the crest of a hill we caught a peek of
the Pacific Ocean winking in the fading light.

A descent was made into the hidden valley
of Muir Woods where Redwoods grow
to impossible heights for improbable years.
Abandoning our car for the foot trails,
we wound through the trees like ant people,
the air fresh as the first day of creation.

The serenity cleared and cleaned our
city-corrupted organs of perception,
the sound of our footfalls like Adam
walking with God in the cool of the day,
a soft breeze moving across the ear
whispering a wordless wisdom.


***

What Rose Mary Sees

What MaryAnn Sees, a photo by []Aaroneous Monk[] on Flickr.

___________

What does Rose Mary see when she is looking up with eyes closed, palms together in front of her face, like a child in prayer? Do the heavens open up as she rocks back and forth murmuring to herself during the Liturgy or is she escaping some private hell conjured by mental illness? The third heaven of St. Paul or the third hell of Dante, literally or in metaphor?

She is a mystery.

Her stories have elements of the impossible or, at the very least, the highly improbable. When she turns her head away she forgets you are there, seeming to attend to other matters. No matter how many times you introduce yourself she looks at you as if it is a first meeting, that you are a new visitor to her church. She teaches humility like few can.

__________

Matins of Great & Holy Friday

Great & Holy Friday, a photo by []Aaroneous Monk[] on Flickr.

An ancient liturgical hymn sung at the Matins service of Great & Holy Friday, here sung by Archbishop Job of Blessed Memory.

**********

Today is suspended on a tree He who suspended the earth upon the waters.
The King of the angels is decked with a crown of thorns.
He who wraps the heavens in clouds is wrapped in the purple of mockery.
He who freed Adam in the Jordan is slapped on the face.
The Bridegroom of the Church is affixed to the Cross with nails.
The Son of the Virgin is pierced by a spear.
We worship Thy passion, O Christ.
We worship Thy passion, O Christ.
We worship Thy passion, O Christ.
Show us also Thy glorious resurrection.

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Nighttime Conversations

Nighttime Conversations, a photo by []Aaroneous Monk[] on Flickr.

___________________

murmuring wind
airs things
we cannot
or will not
share
constrained
by pride
locked out
of love
a prisoner
of our self
a stranger
to light
a withering
of life
___________________