The Unclean

The Unclean

There was a time when I was clean,

had family, friends, relatives and a man.

Sunshine, joy, happiness, life was serene,

vanished when my bleeding began but not end.

O God, Thou creator of worlds without end,

why do Thou decree that I suffer so?

By my body issue cause that my life rend,

did I offend Thee that Thou afflict such sorrow?

Thou decree that woman with menses be unclean,

temple ceremonially so but contaminable too.

But Thou did created woman to bleed in between,

weeping of a womb disappointment accrue.

My bleeding did not stop continually unclean I remain,

Social outcast fled family, friends, man I hold dear.

Seek physicians and priests my misfortune to unchain,

Not spared prayers, cash, effort that I become clear.

Twelve years of loneliness longing for a human touch,

O God, Thou compassionate merciful wherefore are Thou?

Twelve years of darkness only to Thee I clutch,

O Lord, Compassionate and Merciful One, heal Thou me now!

(Mark 5:24-34; Matthew 9:20-22; Luke 8:43-48)

Thomas Merton The Serene Disciple

When in the Soul of the Serene Disciple

When in the soul of the serene disciple
With no more Fathers to imitate
Poverty is a success,
It is a small thing to say the roof is gone:
He has not even a house.

Stars, as well as friends,
Are angry with the noble ruin.
Saints depart in several directions.

Be still:
There is no longer any need of comment.
It was a lucky wind
That blew away his halo with his cares,
A lucky sea that drowned his reputation.

Here you will find
Neither a proverb nor a memorandum.
There are no ways,
No methods to admire
Where poverty is no achievement.
His God lives in his emptiness like an affliction.

What choice remains?
Well, to be ordinary is not a choice:
It is the usual freedom
Of men without visions

                                                                           Thomas Merton

Rumi’s "The Guest House"

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

—translated by Coleman Barks

A House of Worship

I sat in the dust,

sores and boils on my skin,

organs malfunctioning, synapses misfiring,

deep wounds festering in my soul,

outside a house of worship.

Come to me,

said the owner of the house of worship,

and I offer you,

balms for your sores and boils,

healing for your organs and mind,

salvation for your soul.

I sat in the dust,

and peer into the dim interior,

of the house of worship,

at the workers whom the owner has engaged

to run his house of worship.

Come to me,

but I recoil at what I have seen within,

self-righteousness that coat like a second skin,

false smile that hide the mind of ambition,

starvation for my soul.

I sat in the dust,

and wait and wait and wait,

come home, oh owner of the house,

come home to fulfil your promises

maranatha, come home.

.

Hey You!

This wonderful poem is from Heart to Heart with Holley blog.

Hey, you...

...the one who's had a hard week,
or who's dreaming that dream,
or who's somewhere in-between.
I'm praying for you today...
asking God to come into
the middle of your circumstances,
the middle of your road,
the middle of your life,
and do what only He can do.
I'm asking Him to wrap
His arms around your heart,
fill you up with love from deep inside,
give you peace that passes understanding,
and set your heart free in new ways.
I'm praying He gives you
everything you ask...
and more than you can imagine
because I believe He's got good plans for you
and I know He's going to see you through.
So know you're loved...
and keep holding on to the One who will never let go of you.

HT: Anna