Mary Helen Departing Bright thou art and shall prevail, O beauty breaking the form-bound shell, Thy spirit grows though body fail, In Joy's abode it now shall dwell. Let not the flow of mortal tears Weigh down thy wings of angel-flight Or all our frail and helpless fears Impinge upon thy soul's delight, Remembrance of those fragrant years, Moments sad and bittersweet, Reflected as His presence nears, Returning thee to Mother's feet.

The Journey Done - To Mary Helen The lilacs in their swelling buds prepare The scented gift of spring, a perfumed air, As cherries burst in pink and pastel glow Remembering how softly you would go Through the garden of our fragrant paradise. Not sadness but a poignant dream of days Recalling again those ever-luminous eyes That on the smallest flower cast their grace And loveliness of smile, the envious sun No brighter than your soul among the stars, Soaring to reach Her feet, the journey done, A leap to joy above all earthly bars. Recalling the beauty of your gentle soul The dreadful price you paid to reach the goal

The Hour Has Begun Perhaps I knew thee ere all life began Or when time commenced its endless caravan, For surely love predates the stars, the sun, And by its force God's labour was begun And surely shall we see the leap from man As once a consciousness awoke in stone. The earth knew then she laboured not alone And slowly grew the life-force in the plant, The Sun her paramour and procreant, Though lingered yet behind the God unknown. Then came the advent of the beast and bird And music from a silver flute was heard Amid the rumble and the thrill of breath And joy so briefly found, so quickly death, But on the fragrant breeze a

In England I walked upon the ancient Pilgrim's Way And looked across the green and flowing downs, The light of England pale upon the day Illuminating sleepy ancient towns With houses joined together at the waist. Along the cobbled streets Clematis grew The rose's fragrance with the lily's paced Luxuriant and glistening with dew. Such sacred things, the ivied church, the cries Of new-born lambs frolicking in the field, Cathedral spires breaking through the skies And towers where the bells of mercy pealed. The choirs sang amongst the faithful few New anthems sounding tired, old, and worn, As if a melody once bright and new Aban

Upon Our Sleeping Floor I listen for steps I shall no longer hear, A voice that held the melodies of spring, And yet I feel her presence ever near, Her love divine that takes from death his sting. Though she is gone, the human form dissolved, Her spirit flown to haven and to rest Will soon return and all will be resolved On earth the sanctuary of the blest. Among the rhodendrons and the ferns Awakened is the heart to Beauty's reign, The meaning of humility returns To dissipate the sorrow and the pain. The feet of God will touch our soil once more, His golden light upon our sleeping floor.

For Whom We Wait The ancient rhythms pulse beneath my feet But I have leaden steps, I cannot move, All melody is stilled, how shall I greet Another spring that promises of love? I watched her slowly die, silently Slipping through the shell of flesh and bone, Pulmonary insufficiency! I knew her soul the body had outgrown. But now I am devoid of inner sight, The mind no help and reason sadly fails To comprehend the passing of a light Before which all our understanding pales. Yet I have held the overflowing cup And rosy dawn delights the tearful eye, The wings of joy again shall lift me up To summits where the bright archangels

Loss and Restitution Companionless, a grief that none can share, The sudden recognition of the vast Alone in which my spirit now is cast, No map to guide my solitary course And heavy hangs the night in sorrow's air. Useless reason has no power here All argument is stifled by a pain That surfaces and then subsides again In moments when I open to the Force And understand that She whom I revere Holds past and future in Her careful hands, No tragedy we face has not foreseen, Allowed, and reckons not what might have been But moves us ever closer to the day Of God revealed who thwarts our well-laid plans That soul rise up withi

Winter Haiku - Scroll IV Frozen earth, Blanket of peace, Nurture the seed, the sleeping root. Graceful geese In perfect flight Flop and skid on the freezing lake. Icicles sing Their glasslike song Breaking in the morning sun. Landscape of snow, The crystal stars Illumining the frozen night.

Catbird The cat-bird comes at morning light A lyric air of joy is he, His ritual so fresh and bright Singing his songs of parody. A copier voice and nothing more He holds no cache of melody, Repeating trills heard long before From topmost branch or highest tree. And we who hear his practice round Reflect a moment on our days Covering the same dull ground In habit's grooves and hardened ways. And yet within this songster's voice A subtle variance is heard, A note perhaps of conscious choice Or repetition of a word That turns the movement of the stars Or calls to earth a rain of grace. We too shall hear celestial bars

On Soundless Feet - To Mother Shall I remember when the hour nears And death is but a half-step away, A sun in which our darkness disappears, Her smile, the promise of a golden day. Or shall I feel Her touch, Her blessing hand So gentle on my bowed unworthy head, Her grace to guide but rarely to command, That made the spirit wake from body's bed Aroused from dream-like sleep in heaven's fields To seek the one divine in all on earth, The path of light abjuring dark's ordeals, Recall the reason for this sacred birth. In the rapture of Her moments we shall meet God within who comes on soundless feet.