O Emmanuel

Emptiness,
the forced occupation
of the barren soul.
The river beds,
empty, cracked.
Once lush landscape
gives way to tundra.
The unimaginable darkness,
hostile to sunlight,
gives no warmth,
a long season
of desolation.
the beating heart
of creation, slows,
flatlines, ceased.
But this, this
is not death,
the despair of hopelessness,
this is the darkness
before the dawn.
Mountains shake,
the river beds swell,
The Water of Life begins
to bubble beneath the surface.
Clouds burst,
fresh rain of hope
spatters thirsty ground.
The soul awakes,
eyes lifted
straining for the horizon,
Lo, He comes,
Our God,
Emmanuel

SJMC+
(Written:23.XII.17)

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O Rex Gentium

Eternal monarch
whose birth binds nations
drawing mankind to Himself.
Angels in bright array
singing of His glory,
announce salvation
to His fallen creatures.
Beings of dust
elevated to the highest realm
to enter the throne room.
From that child’s first breath
humanity is fulfilled
responding to
the Universal King.
His cry
pieces the darkness
O King of nations,
Father of all,
who bestows true joy
to mortal hearts.

SJMC+
(Written: 22.XII.17)

 

O Oriens

Watching, waiting
alone in darkness.
The dayspring breaks,
the dawn of faith.
The shroud of doubt
retreats in light
as the longest eve
abruptly ends.
The voice of God
brings forth The Word,
He who commands
the morning,
and guides
the sun to its place.
The clouds part
and now
with clear vision
death rescinds,
fear flees,
love remains.
He is the beginning
who rose in the East
to transform
my body
to His own.

SJMC+
(Written: 21.XII.17)

O Clavis David

Captive soul cries out
from torment
of dungeon deep.
Imprisoned,
in worldly flesh,
forced to bow,
before horned emperor
of the underworld.
Ransom set
but unattainable
as fingers scrape the walls
and claw at the bars,
stretching into the void.
The hinges rust,
lock overcome with moss
and dirt.
The mocking laughter
of fallen Seraph
echoes through dim cell.
Frantic prayers
whispered, fading
reach His ears.
The bright light
of the Morning Star
raids the crypt.
O Key of David.
Release.

SJMC+
(Written: 20.XII.17)

O Radix Jesse

 

You did not just descend
from throne room
to lowly earthly kingdom
in a royal visitation,
to wave at subjects
from sate carriage
or mingle briefly
with smiles
or stilted conversation,
but rather
you dug deeply
into our human nature,
not wrapping yourself
in a temporary cloak of flesh
but sinking
into the roots,
below the surface,
that stretch back
through our long history.
But a blink,
to you,
to Him,
but for us.
Everything.
O Root of Jesse
your signal
that we are
Your very own

SJMC+
(Written: 19.XII.17)

O Adonai

The rumbling anticipation,
innocent maiden
through sweat
and gritted teeth
births the Word
of the prophets.
He comes,
not with Warlord might
or Kingly splendour
but masked,
squirming, bloodied
upon the hay.
A foretold death
of a peaceful prince
that will drive all men
to their knees.
O Lord
we join the angels song.
Unable
to fully grasp
the power
wrapped in swaddling clothes.
A stranger.
The Lord.

SJMC+
(Written: 18.XII.17)

O Sapientia

I cast my eyes across creation
and ponder the work of Your hand.
I see her,
like a silver winged dove
skipping across the wind
and effortlessly
diving in the the current
of our humanity.
When I spy her
and words pour forth
in tribute,
it is only pale imitation
as my mind races to catch up
with the truth of God.
O Wisdom
how prized
and unattainable
until I quell the rebellion
of my chaotic soul
and come to rest
under His wing.

SJMC+
(Written: 17.XII.17)

Advent Hope

Do you mean it?
When you say
‘my Lord and my God’
Do those words sink
deeply into heart
and soul,
or echo around
with hollow resonance
in a puffed up chest.

His call, His command
is seldom comfortable
but will drag you
kicking and screaming
from the security of delusion.
Away from the idolatry
that places at the centre
yourself
and nothing more.

This is not a scratch,
or pin prick,
or even an thorn in flesh
but an amputation.
You’ll learn to walk
again,
striding in light
not skulking in shadow.

But first,
the heart must want
the soul to grow.
And grow it shall,
pushing through rocky ground
with tender shoots
of Advent hope.
Reaching, not upward,
but outward
to Him
who comes amongst us

SJMC+
(Written: 8.XII.17)

 

Advent One

Every time I look at you
I’m pierced by celestial gaze
of ancient time,
from afar,
but pause with expectation
in intimate knowledge
that soon,
you shall be here.

Bearing down upon creation,
snatching our humanity
to yourself.
Yet not clinging
but preparing
to give all up.

Before you come,
contained in flesh,
wrapped in glory
the corners of my soul
are exposed.
The cleansing breath
disperses cobwebs,
disrupts detritus,
with a blast of the divine.
The same breath
to be expelled from the lungs
of the Christ Child.
Awake, alive, incarnate.

SJMC+
(Written: 3.XII.17)
First Sunday of Advent

 

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