Kathy's Birthday, Jan 21, a special poem

A Special Poem for Kathy M

THE SILKEN TENT

He is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gentle sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is it pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
but strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one’s going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.

–Robert Frost,

posted by her Uncle Bernard

THE MOST AMAZING GRACE OF ALL

There is a poetry of love that is not in words, but in actions, grace and giving. Such I view as the giving of oneself to another in the awesome covenanting of wedding vows.

Human love is the most amazing grace of all.

Saturday, I was witness to another beautiful wedding here in Lexington, where I am privileged to "preside" at about 50 per year. I want to share with you the poetry of that moment in the brief homily I use before the wedding pledge and vows. By the way each couple selects their own ceremony from a menu of choices. See my wedding web site at www.lexpages.com/wedding . My homily:

ALL THE SAINTS, ALL THE PROPHETS,
ALL THE SCRIPTURE WRITERS AND MYSTICS
TELL US ONE THING:

THE NATURE OF GOD IS LOVE.

THAT GOD’S LOVE IS THE CENTRAL
OR CORE MYSTERY OF THE UNIVERSE.

TODAY LOVE IS NOT OUT THERE
SOMEWHERE IN THE HEAVENS.

TODAY THIS MYSTERY IS RIGHT HERE,
AMONG US.

BETWEEN NIKKI AND ROGER.

HUMAN LOVE IS THE MOST AMAZING GRACE OF ALL.

IT IS HOLY, SACRED AND AWESOME NOT ONLY IN
WHAT IT IS, BUT WHAT IT BECKONS US TOWARD.
AN ENJOYMENT OF ONE ANOTHER,

HONORING ONE ANOTHER AND
AN UNCEASING GIVING OF OURSELVES,
A SURRENDER TO THE OTHER.

NIKKI AND ROGER TODAY
PLEDGE THAT THEY
WILL BE FAITHFUL TO THIS LOVE
THAT HAS FOUND THEM

AND WE ARE HERE

TO CELEBRATE
WITH THEM
AND THEIR FAMILIES
THE JOY OF THIS DISCOVERY
AND THIS PLEDGING.

WHAT A PRECIOUS AND HAPPY DAY
THIS IS.

Note:

this may be copied and used,

changed without attribution.

It is not from me, but via me.

October Leavings

Lone leaf on bare branch am I:
poised between two worlds,
bygone baccannal of sap-rising
‘n abyss of mouldering fall.

Fingers of chill pilfer my green
fading to briefer brighter colors
Winter Solstice curling
‘round my naked veins.

Nights longer, cooler:
sap-faltering now sires
crisp orphan.
I cling,
wondering
as stealthy nipping
weans my wild summer lusts
wind-woos my release:
frost-scowling
asking
me
even while I hold on
tarrying,
to be
Executor
of my own unfixing
quitting home
for head-over somersault
uncertain flight
to earth’s restful carpeting–
unnoticed exit
to hushed nightfall.

Sleep,
you soften my stiff
seedless form
with gentling rain
‘n whispering breeze.

Self, be still to hear:
"The shadow nearing is
an ancient mother
conceiving for another
spring.

Fear not, let go!
Your fall was not
reinless plunge,
but every
curve fated,
every straying
in the due lane.

Your upborne path
is already marked--
where you land
so lightly
is cradled womb
within Me."

Paschal Bernard Baute
October 21, 1986
in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky,
at a place called
"Hell fer Sartin."

Noblesse Oblige: my constant liege

Add all power ever burst
by tempest or nuclear power in
Words: Truth-fully
ready to cut or heal--still
mighty to free!

Sum all longing ever felt
by poor, lame, lost, last and least:
'twould never equal yearning
His must be:
wanting our free choice with such
catastrophe!

Count all risks ever ventured
by prophets, pilgrims, 'n pioneers:
'Twould never equal chance
taken when He
gave His life yet Father left;
abandoned Thee!

Reckon all love ever encountered
'tween lovers, friends, families, mates:
'Twould never equal passionate
Love for me
in a Heart that yielded all,
nailed to a tree!

Recite all grief ever endured
for children 'n loved ones lost and gone:
'Twould never equal heart
ache for me:
when from Thee to self I turn
to view just me.

Heap all joy ever shouted
for children lost and found again:
'Twould never equal tremendous
joy for me
when I turn from self and sin
back to Thee!

Take all refuge ever sought
by sailors lost or stormed at sea:
'Twould never equal shelter
offered free:
safe harbor, peace-anchor
His heart bids me!

Figure all faithfulness ever kept
by saints and Gandhis great and small:
'twould never equal pledge,
lasting decree:
Covenant kept with us,
now given me!

Relate all gifts ever bestowed
by princes, kings, lovers and friends:
'twould never equal generous,
precious gifts we
brought to earth by maid when
"yes," said she!

Advent, 1984
Copyright, Paschal Bernard Baute, 1984

WERE I GOD?

Musings of an ancient wounded healer

Were I God, I would dive
into the darkest shadows
of being human,
into profound pain,
outrageous loss,
unbearable suffering,
embracing all the tears
and the joy I could find,
and I would swim towards Light
taking with me
as much of the brokenness
everywhere and of all time
as I could gather.

Were I God I would live
in despair and in hope.
I would be
the inspiration of a poem,
the rainbow, the dew on the grass,
the color of fall, the gentle breeze,
the kind word, the tender touch,
the laughter of children.
I would abide in every flower,
every seed, every cry and sigh,
I would be the possibility of
each new moment.
I would be weakness finding strength,
never lording it over others,
but in every humble service,
pitching my tent among the poor,
preferring the outsiders.
I would nestle in vulnerability:
risking and giving Self.

Were I God I would hide
so subtly within all creation
that I could never be caught.
I would be so unutterable
as to resist being talked about,
and hate the name "God"
remembering the oppression
done in my name.

I would exist beyond any word
any symbol, any possible expression,
but I would dwell in every human groan.
I would avoid expected places:
some pulpits, rituals, churches.
I would never be snared
by theology, religion or even prayer.
No sacred book, system or creed
could capture or contain Me--
my incomprehensible
awful immensities.
I would exist solely
to be given away,
with heart not mind,
never to be comprehended or
held by safe orthodoxy:
far more verb than noun.

I would be yearning for freedom,
passion for justice,
thirsting for peace,
searching for truth, craving for affirmation,
ardor for sharing, the making of love,
and the ecstasy of surrender.
I would be in
every form of hurting
and its transcendence.
I would be gleamed
in lowly favors, generosity,
courage, simplicity, compassion
but especially
in forgiveness.

I would be aborning ever new
in the bruised and lonely heart.
I would be found more
in doubt than in certainty
more in questioning than
in righteousness.
I would need to be
intimately concealed
because the human ego
is so ready to use Me
to elevate itself
by judging others.

I would despise the use
of presumed truths about Me
to divide the human race,
for every sectarian purpose.
Were I God I would enjoy
leaving clues, riddles
and traces everywhere,
being tracked only
by valiant searchers.
I would glory in
the incompleteness
of my creatures
and all of my creation,
knowing that the human spirit
I sustain
could triumph
over any human mess
and bring love and equity
even as I do, out of chaos.
I would love

transforming futility.

I would let myself be glimpsed
in sunrises and sunsets
in the wonders of planet earth
--ship and voyager--
cosmic immensities
galaxies and darkness,
in human loving,
yearning and striving,
in quiet stillness and
becoming little
in EVERY human story.

Copyright, Paschal Bernard Baute, 1991, 1997, 1998