These poems are arranged in the order of their writing, from 2011 to 2021. Some have appeared on this blog before.
STORMY CROSSING
“Are you not of more value than a hundred
sparrows?”
And, “seek first the kingdom of God;
all else you shall receive.”
The first I understood, the second
asked for thought, but
now it was time to make the
crossing.
Calm sea, clear sky, he would get
some rest,
the Master, eyes tired, face drawn –
soon asleep
in the stern while we set minds,
hands, backs
to rowing our boat. Then it came
out of nowhere, the Enemy’s black
breath
straining sails, bending the mast,
raising the waters
menacing over us. Our first thought was the boat;
then Peter said to me, “How can he
sleep?”
cried to him, “Master, we drown; do
you not care?”
The weary eyelids lifted, his gaze
sad but mild;
rising, he raised a hand, “Peace, be
still,” he said,
not loud, not commanding, yet
instantly obeyed.
The sea unruffled, the air so balmy;
not sea and sky alone were calm –
my mind paused, my heart too. None spoke.
Turning to us, he said: “Men of
little faith,
why did you doubt?” and fell asleep
again.
“Are you not of more value than a
hundred sparrows?”
Our minds, frail minds, had turned
to thoughts of shelter, food, a bed,
we forgot
to ponder his words about his
kingdom.
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
PIÈTÀ or THE VIRGIN’S
LAMENT
Give me my son, Joseph,
lay him on my knees.
O
child, my life, heart of my heart,
was
it for this you suckled my breast,
grew
in my womb, smiled at me
like
a star in the manger?
Not
stars crown your head;
on
your feet red flowers bloom,
on
hands – hands that blessed,
that
healed, that unsealed
the
tomb, set free the dead to live again.
Return,
o my life, haste back to me,
the
sword has pierced me through,
I
live but to see your promise kept
when
you have slept awhile in yon tomb
as
once you lay in my womb,
drawing
your life from me.
Cold
– cold and stark –
ah,
say to me: “weep not, behold,
your
son lives.”
Come, John, take me home –
nay, do not weep, it shall not be long,
the vigil we keep till he returns –
but,
ah, the pain, the pain to me.
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
CHRISTOS ANESTI!
Χριστός Ανέστη: αληθώς ανέστη ο Κύριος
Christ is risen: Truly risen is the Lord
(Byzantine Paschal greeting and
response)
Who will roll the stone away?
Even as the women mourning brought
Ointments for his body, he whom they
sought
Came forth radiant as break of day,
Jesus the Messiah, God’s only Son,
Was risen and gone from their sight;
Leaving his tomb filled with light,
Striking with fear the guards, every
one.
As fully God, Jesus Christ rose,
Raising himself as fully Man;
Does this to the faltering reason
pose
Baffling thought the mind may not
scan?
Yet on this rock does our faith
rooted stand;
Empty tomb below, and the cross
above.
In humble faith, radiant hope, we
understand
All the power of God’s life-giving
love.
Note on CHRISTOS ANESTI!
Have
you ever wondered at the choice of words in more than one epistle of St. Paul
when he refers to the Resurrection and to its centrality in our Faith? He does not explain the difference between
the two Persons that are one in Jesus, Messiah and Second Person of the indivisible
Trinity. John Donne’s Sermon XXIII,
preached at St. Paul’s, Easter 1630, to some extent speaks of this duality:
“rose from the dead” and “was raised from the dead”*. The Incarnation turns up
constantly in the subtext of what Jesus speaks, a mind-boggling thought which
can never be comprehended by any creature, only by the Creator. That is why humility, obedience and love are
the necessary conditions for Faith to be rooted, live, and grow – as perfectly exemplified
in the Annunciation dialogue, which I think is best depicted in Domenico
Veneziano’s painting, drawing a poem from me some years ago.
*“Gregory Nyssen suspects, that
for the infirmity of the then hearers, the apostles thought it scarce safe to
express it often in that phrase, he
rose, or he raised himself, and therefore, for the most part, return to
the suscitatus est, that he was raised, lest weak hearers might be scandalized with
that, that a dead man had raised himself of his own power. And therefore the
angel in this place enlarges the comfort to these devout women, in a full
measure, when he opens himself in that word surrexit, he is risen, risen of himself. ... There is our comfort
collected from, this surrexit, he is risen, ... that this
his rising declares him to be the Son of God, who therefore can, and will, and
to be that Jesus, an actual Redeemer, and therefore hath already raised us. ...
even then, when he lay dead, he was God still; then, when he was no man, he was
God still; nay, then when he was no man, he was God, and man, in this true
sense, that though the body and soul were divorced from one another, and that
during that divorce, he were no man, (for it is the union of body and soul that
makes a man) yet the Godhead was not divided from either of these constitutive
parts of man, body or soul. ... Even the angel calls Christ Lord; and his
Lord; for, the
Lord, (and the angel calls him so) is Lord of all, of men, and angels. When
God brings his Son into the world, (says
the apostle) he says, let all the angels of God worship him. And when God carries his Son out of the
world, by the way of the cross, they have just cause to worship him too, for, By
the blood of his cross are all things reconciled to God, both things in earth,
and things in heaven, men and
angels. Therefore did an angel minister to Christ before he was, in the
annunciation to his blessed mother, that he should be; and an angel to his
imaginary father Joseph, before he was born; and a choir of angels to the
shepherds at his birth; an angel after his temptation, and in his agony, and
bloody-sweat, more angels; angels at his last step, at his ascension, and here,
at his resurrection angels minister unto him. The angels of heaven acknowledged
Christ to be their Lord.”
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
ASSUMPTA EST VIRGO
MARIA
“Come,” he said, holding out his
hands,
workman’s hands, wounds glowing;
“come to me.” His love met hers aspiring,
lodestone to her heart, body, soul,
drawing her to his home, now hers
for ever:
Mary in Jesus’ arms as he had been
in hers.
Sancta Dei Genitrix, ora pro nobis.
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
THE GUARDIAN
I waited upon her answer to
Gabriel’s words from God,
heard it and knew her now for my
sacred charge.
Modest maid, humble, receptive to
the Lord,
her journeys asked a courage few
others could show.
Guarding her I marvelled not at the
Maker’s faith,
for to such a lady all angels must
bow.
*
Fraught was the journey, as she bent
in the saddle,
her husband, face drawn, watched now
her, now the road
as it wound and climbed to his
forefather’s town.
Amid the chatter of many going to
Bethlehem,
we three and the unborn spoke no
word at all.
That they would find shelter was
allowed me to know,
mine to keep watch at the Holy
Child’s birth.
For the Evil One watched too,
awaiting his chance;
he knew but half her burden yet
would destroy the whole.
*
Journey after journey, many homes
the lady knew,
that I guarded her, never; she
trusted without question
her Son and his Father, until the
Spirit came.
Her own spirit knew then the Blessed
Mystery.
On her last journey, no guardian was
required:
to her Son she went, raised by both
their loves,
as all we angels watched in perfect
gladness.
*The ‘conceit’ or poetic idea behind
this imagining of the Archangel Michael (Mikha-el) is set out thus:
Two spirits God created brightest, best:
one’s choice was pride, flaunting ambition,
quietly the other waited to serve.
One sought to know that which only God can.
“Why may not I?” scarce thought, a cry returned -
“Who is like God?” – a clarion call
that would be the quiet one’s name.
So was he charged such spirits to expel,
mortal children of the Father to protect.
© 2022 by Ruth Heredia
EPIPHANY
We sought knowledge, and found
Wisdom –
why to us, we three? This knowledge is not granted -
but we were grateful. Taking gifts we journeyed,
going far – where knowledge failed
us – to do homage.
Wisdom led us with her radiance:
we found her in a little child
seated on his mother’s knee.
In later times, we heard, they named
the mother
Seat of Wisdom, but to us she seemed
a lighted lamp in Wisdom’s house.
*
Gold we had brought, with
frankincense, myrrh;
in her we found the very House of
Gold.
Her husband, tools laid by, stood
beside her, devotion
like fragrant incense rose from
both.
Deep in their watchful eyes the
pain,
the shadow of death. We bowed, to honour lives
at the service of Wisdom.
*
Strange it was, all of it, beginning
with the star,
a star unknown that beckoned – so it
seemed.
Where to and why we asked, then
remembered
a present stir through all the
world, desire
for a king – the bringer of peace –
cornerstone which makes all peoples
one.
“Seek him among the Jews,” our study
told us,
as the star moved westward.
Following, we found our sought-for
king
in a carpenter’s home.
Said I not it was strange? And changed our lives,
our minds; we learned wisdom.
Note on EPIPHANY
The Magi, whatever their number,
were almost surely followers of Zarathustra, from Persia, and there is no
certainty about what ‘star’ they were following. From the time of Cyrus the Great, there had
been reason for Persians to respect what the best of Israelites believed and
practised; and their ‘wise men’ were learned in the use of substances and
methods to relieve or cure illness or injury – for which cause they might be
called ‘magician’, besides being searchers of the sky, readers and writers of
‘lore’, and so on, which would further impress simple folk.
In the time of Octavius Caesar,
known as Augustus, Rome had already begun to ‘conquer the world’, and Virgil
wrote, unusually, in the midst of verses celebrating a simple bucolic life,
these odd lines:
Ultima Cumaei venit iam carminis aetas;
magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo.
iam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna,
iam nova progenies caelo demittitur alto.
tu modo nascenti puero, quo ferrea primum
desinet ac toto surget gens aurea mundo,
"Now is
come the last age of the Cumaean prophecy:
The great
cycle of periods is born anew.
Now returns
the Maid, returns the reign of Saturn:
Now from
high heaven a new generation comes down.
Yet do thou
at that boy's birth,
In whom the
iron race shall begin to cease,
And the
golden to arise over all the world,
(Eclogue IV)
On these subjects, Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives
by Joseph Ratzinger Pope Benedict XVI is of much interest.
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
JUDAS
Gentle hands of Jesus
Washed those dust-roughened feet:
The coin-coarsened heart was too
hard.
Thirty silver pieces
Bought Judas only a halter
Costlier than jar of pure nard.
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
DIVINE MERCY
For W.G.
He had risen indeed; I saw him,
yet knew him not: He was changed.
I fell at His feet, ashamed, but
“Rise, Peter,” He said, “go
with your brothers to Galilee.
I go before you. Follow.”
So we went. And did not see Him.
Soul in torment, “I’m going
fishing,”
I said; some came with me –
faithful John among them.
We caught nothing. Again.
Memory pierced me when the man
on the shore spoke,
and the net was filled to breaking.
“It is the Lord,” said John. He
drew me
covering my nakedness before Him.
Unable to meet His eyes, I turned
to help draw the net ashore.
“Fishers of men,”
seared my soul. That fire –
another charcoal fire.
He gave us bread again, some fish;
called us His “children”.
My heart was breaking; the Rock
had failed Him. Broke
at His words, my name:
“Simon bar Jonah,
do you love me?”
Three times He asked,
to my answer responded,
“Feed my sheep;” looked
into my soul, “Follow me,”
He said; washed me clean,
as once I had asked, impetuous.
I was not so after,
though freed, restored, entrusted.
I followed Him to a cross;
His words I recalled;
“head down,” I pleaded, “I am not
worthy
to die as He did,
my beloved Master.”
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
EMMAUS
We walked with him and did not know
it,
lost amid shards of our dream.
He spoke, building a home for us
from Moses to John who baptised.
A house for God and Man he raised,
himself its sure foundation; but
we knew him not. Only our need
for his words, his presence.
Breaking bread with us, he was gone,
yet not so. In his Word, his Bread,
we have him still; if we know it.
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST
(after
Tintoretto)
“painting with a lighted torch ...
upon a canvas
which is the night” ~ Stephen
Spender
“I baptise you with water,” said
John,
“but after me comes a greater one,
who will baptise you with fire,
release you from your sins’ mire.
The Lamb of God – whom I shall know
when he comes. As I decrease, he must grow.”
Bewildered by his words, yet they
came,
grey ghosts, lives broken by sin and
shame,
never marking one who walked beside
them humbly till the Baptist cried:
“Come you to me? It is for me to be
by you baptised.” Said Jesus, “It is right that we
do this, all righteousness to
fulfill.”
From the river he rose, baptised by
the Law’s will.
On which the heavens opened to send
down Love,
the Spirit of God, descending like a
dove,
as the Father spoke his Son to
commend:
“With him I am well pleased,” so to
send
Messiah on his painful road to save
each grey ghost from an eternal
grave.
Inspired Tintoretto shows
John’s Christophany;
on his canvas it glows
for those whose eyes see
Christ’s Good News, in image his
story –
unto death obedient, to rise in
glory.
Note on THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST:
John the Baptist’s theophany came from the meeting of the unborn
cousins, when he recognised in Jesus “the Lord” – the word in Hebrew used
instead of the not to be spoken “I AM”.
By the river Jordan they meet, now
grown men; John at the moment that fulfils his election by God to be herald of
the Christ, Jesus beginning his mission as that Anointed One. His Good News not yet announced, his reply
when John demurs, “I come to fulfil the Law”, is to be linked in the
Christian’s mind with the descent into the river, that symbol of death and the
shadowland where the dead awaited resurrection, while Jesus’ emerging from the
waters symbolizes resurrection – his own in particular, glorified by the voice
of the Father and the descent of the Spirit.
The Evangel, a call to new life both
now and forever, is symbolized by this first step, baptism, in which Jesus
identified himself with sinners although he was sinless. The Baptism of Jesus is the conclusion of
episode one in God’s revelation of himself.
It had begun quietly, requiring a silent attentiveness. Thus revelation to Mary came at the
Annunciation, and to Joseph in a dream reassuring him about her pregnancy. This culminating revelation of the triune God
is louder, but was it heard and seen by anyone other than John? The Gospel accounts all make it clear that no
one else was witness other than the Messiah and his herald. No one in Tintoretto’s painting reacts to the
voice or the vision.
© 2022
by Ruth Heredia
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