What word informs the world,
and moves the worm along in his blind tunnel?
What secret purple wisdom tells the iris edges
to unfold in frills? What juiced and emerald thrill
urges the sap until the bud resolves
its tight riddle? What irresistible command
unfurls this cloud above this greening hill,
or one more wave — its spreading foam and foil —
across the flats of sand? What minor thrust
of energy issues up from humus in a froth
of ferns? Delicate as a laser, it filigrees
the snow, the stars. Listen close — What silver sound
thaws winter into spring? Speaks clamor into singing?
Gives love for loneliness? It is this
un-terrestrial pulse, deep as heaven, that folds you
in its tingling embrace, gongs in your echo heart.
~Luci Shaw “What Secret Purple Wisdom” The Green Earth: Poems of Creation
He gave Himself to us
to bring joy into our misery;
This mystery is too much to accept
such sacrifice is possible.
We are blind-hearted to the possibility:
He who cannot be measured unfolds before us
to overwhelm our darkness.
I prefer remaining tight in my bud,
hidden in the little room of my heart
rather than risk opening in full blossom and fruitfulness.
Lord, give me grace to open my tight fist of a bud.
Prepare me for embracing your mystery.
Prepare me to bloom.
What is the crying at Jordan?
Who hears, O God, the prophecy?
Dark is the season, dark
our hearts and shut to mystery.
Who then shall stir in this darkness
prepare for joy in the winter night?
Mortal in darkness we
lie down, blind-hearted, seeing no light.
Lord, give us grace to awake us,
to see the branch that begins to bloom;
in great humility
is hid all heaven in a little room.
Now comes the day of salvation,
in joy and terror the Word is born!
God gives himself into our lives;
Oh, let salvation dawn!
~Carol Christopher Drake