The Perpetual Song

The song, the song,

the perpetual song

in my soul

is stilled--

so gone!

I long, I long

for the swelling of song

in my soul

again--

awake!

Oh song, my song,

oh what can be wrong?

Are you dead? 

I mourn

so long.

And then, oh song,

when I thought you were gone,

I perceived

a flutter--

not strong,

But real! My song!

You're alive, oh, my song!

Oh, I wish I could

speed you

along!

 I'll cradle you, song!

Oh, perpetual song

in my soul--

on you

I wait. 

Poem and photograph by Karen Gladys Henry.  Copyright 2010, all rights reserved.

Healer, Hold My Heart

Healer, Hold My Heart

Healer, hold my heart,
For I have such an ache!
Wounded is my heart–
Burning at the stake.

Healer, hold my heart!
Yes, it will heal in time,
But now is when I need
The oil and the wine.
What has been my crime?
Did I deserve this ache?
Or is it love divine,
My sacrifice to make?

Healer, hold my heart,
For I have such an ache;
Wounded is my heart
For someone else’s sake.

Poem and artwork by Karen Gladys Henry © 2009

Dark Night, The Millstone, Valley of Dry Bones

Dark Night

You were despised, rejected.
So was I.
You know the deep and desolate
pain of unworthiness and shame.
Bitter and hollow.
You bore it for me.
Why would you do that,
glorious and beloved Son of God?
You had never felt rejection from the Father;
You were always Worthy and Beloved.
Adored and Blessed.

And yet You chose to taste my death,
my bitter herbs, my stale bread,
my polluted water.
You cried the tears and felt the lash
of tongues and punishment
for crimes untold.
You chose to identify with me.
Who am I?
A nothing no one wanted, try as they might.
And You, the holy Son of God,
rejected for being who You are–
You know what it’s like.

Son of God.
Such a coveted place,
such a place I desire and dream of,
and do not experience!
As soon as the dog barks,
I am seen as broken and deficient,
as I have always been.
You came to this place of your own accord.
Why? I know in this grown up head of mine.
But what of me here? Here I am small,
in this dark and lonely bedroom of existence–
A place of punishment for being child.

I am child.

But whose child?
Unwanted and a mystery undisclosed.
I desire to remain unseen.
To keep the sanctity of my being in a safe,
locked and inviolate;
but I am not unviolated.
I have been soiled, discarded, scarred,
And left to bleed unheard in the dark–
A bleating lamb.

Lamb of God–
You too were soiled, discarded, scarred
And left to bleed unheard in the dark–
A bleating lamb
on a cross of shame.

My cross.
Naked and spit upon.
Unusable, ruined.
I go down to the grave with you.
Rejected.

Hide me in You, Jesus.
I am afraid of the dark,
even though I choose to remain here in this death.
Am I hidden in You?
I’m hidden with You in the belly of the earth.
Where is the comfort?
Is there any comfort in the bowels of death?

Every time I try to come back to life,
I feel the pain of arrows again!
Every word, every look
A lance through the heart, a blow to the belly.
And I go back down to the darkness of hiding.
And yet Your visitation here
Eternally stands as a memorial
to Your embrace of humanity,
to Your embrace of me.

The Millstone

Woe to them through whom the offense comes!
Woe to them who destroy my little ones.
Woe, woe, woe.

The vulture circles over the carrion.
The stench of death rises from the broken,
The litter of the aborted ones.
Woe, woe, woe cries the eagle of God
Whose eyes see into the distance and the dark.

Who can hide from my Seeing eyes?
Who can hide from the Great Judgment?
Who can bear the weight of the millstone?
Their necks will break,
And they will drown in the tears of the ones they have slain.

Who will be My Intercessor?
Who will be the City of Refuge
For the murderers to run to–
Those who have committed crimes of passion?

I will be the Intercessor, cries the Son of God!
I will be the City of Refuge.
Run to me, you who are crushed
Under the weight of Woe–
Whose necks are broken by the millstone,
Who drown in the tears of the slain.

How long, cry the aborted ones, how long
Until our blood is avenged?
How long until we are salvaged from the wrecks of humanity
And delivered from the carrion birds?
How long until the stench is changed
To the perfume of life?
Hope is deferred, hope is deferred
And our hearts are sick.
How long? How much longer?

I have sent my Word to avenge you,
My little ones.
My two-edged Sword, with Death and Life,
Is in the tongue of my Son.
His vengence is pure.

How, oh Lord, can the Holy One who takes vengence
Be the one who is the City of Refuge?
When will we understand?

Anyone who enters the City of Refuge
Enters by the Sword of the Word.
Evil must die.
It must die now or later.
My sword is Death, and it is also Life
To them that run to Me.

The Sword came forth on the Tree of Disgrace.
Father forgive them, for they know not!
Woe to those who do not Live by the Sword,
for they will Die by it.
Woe to you aborted ones if you do not accept
My vengence–
For it is holy.
Woe, woe, woe to those
Who do not forgive much,
For they have been much loved.

We repent oh, Lord.
We invite the carrions birds to finish off our dead flesh.

The Valley of Dry Bones

Here we lie in the hot sun.
No life in us.
No death.
Nothing.
We have been picked clean.

The Son beats down on us,
Purifying fire.
We can do nothing.
We are not even branches.
We bear no fruit.
No evil,
No good.
We await the Prophet’s word.

A hot wind arises,
A thunderous fury
As the Rider of the White Horse
Advances.
The Kingdom of God
Is at hand

Let there BE LIFE!
DRY BONES ARISE!
You will live My Life,
You will speak My Words,
There is nothing left of you
But the foundation I have built.
You will do My bidding.
You will walk in My Glory.
You are My Army.
You are bone of My bone,
Flesh of My flesh.
You are My great Body,
Formed from the skeleton of suffering–
All that is left from the death of self.

poems and artwork by Karen Gladys Henry
©2001/2009 All Rights Reserved.

Bird of Joy

Bird of Joy

Oh, joy, why do you fly so far from me?
Like a tiny bird in a giant tree,
That my bloodshot eyes strain gravelblind to see,
But only catch a glimpse.
Your gypsy twitterings seem so distant
As you flit from branch to breezy branch;
And you never land for very long
On any twig that’s close enough to reach.

Oh, joy, will you not be my friend?
Oh, fly down here and join my heart!
I cannot fly way up to you; I am earthbound–
Downed by this loathsome gravity.
Lend me some lightness, little bird,
So I might sing a rapturous song of praise–
A song to flutter me aloft with wings
Much stronger than their flighty feathers seem.

Chirp me a ballad, at least, little bird–
Of opal air and topaz clouds now drifting,
So I can treasure something of the sun,
And view a scene of higher, nobler hues.
Do not leave me, lithesome creature,
Until a blessing you’ve bestowed–
Whether smile or tear, I do not care,
But that my breast be light and clear as yours.

Oh, bird of joy, your gentle singing,
And your careless winging tree to tree,
Have brought a bit of springy nurture to my heart,
And lessened the self-pity in my breath.
What do you know of tears or worry,
Fretful visions, hard and harried?
They are in a realm you cannot touch or see–
Yet with all your soft and simple being,
You have helped me loose their brambly bonds from me.

Oh, joy, why do you fly so far from me?
So I might seek the One who keeps you hidden
Underneath His wings.

Karen Gladys Henry ©2003

"Dawn" is a photopainting by Karen Gladys Henry ©2008

All Rights Reserved.

Rinnah

Rinnah


Thunderheads
Moving mountains
Ominous
Saturated
With woe

Tiniest tips
Catch it first
Whirling winds
Tempest heralds
My woe

Trembling leaves
Agonized tossing
Premonitions
Pages of a tree
Torn out

Drops of heaven
Bolt of anguish
Light can be darkness
Splitting of a tree
And heart

One clear moment
Shriek of grief
Creaking woe
Seizure of a soul
Torn out

Smell of ozone
Earth and moss
Tenuous mist
Kissed by a sunray
My loss

Aching ashes
Measureless fog
Mouldering branches
Rotting in the damp
My heart

Snowfall
Frozen ashes
Birdfolk abandon
Merciful deadness
To pain

Slow silence
Sodden ashes
Greenly smiling
Earth sighs a prayer
For me

Dawn testing
Blackened branches
Titmice nesting
Weave in a thread
Like hope

Hope perches
On deadened limbs
Tingling sap
Woodpecker chips
My heart

First leaf
Tentative venture
Roseate buddings
Winter rejected
My grief

Virile sun
Breaks out in song
Edenimity
Woos me again
To joy

Shout of love
Shoots out in triumph
Verdance remembered
New branches born
Rinnah*

Karen Gladys Henry
February 24, 2007

*******

"Weeping may endure for a night,

But joy* comes in the morning."

Psalm 30:5