Saturday, March 6, 2021

"Beautiful"

A-Poem-a-Day 

Until Resurrection Day... 



BEAUTIFUL

 

It’s not a pretty sight -

It’s beautiful.

            Crimson streaming

            From His crown

                        Hands,

                                    Side,

                                                Feet,

            Onto my head,

                        Flowing down my face,

                                    Over my body,

                                                Covering my feet,

                                                            Making me whiter than snow.

 

It’s not a pretty sight -

It’s beautiful.

            It’s agony.

            He calls for His Father,

            Writhes, gasps, thirsts.

 

                        Oh, the weighty burden

                        Of sin upon the Sinless One,

                                    The world’s,

                                                Mine,

                                                            Yours.

 

            Agony,

            Ushering the covenant of salvation -

                        The world’s,

                                    Mine,

                                                Yours.

 

It’s not a pretty sight -

It’s beautiful.

            It is finished.

            They take Him down

                        From the good and terrible Cross.

            Hastily,

                        They place Him in the tomb.

            Securely,

                        They seal the rolling stone.

                        They guard His grave

                                    In awesome,

                                                Tremulous,

                                                            Expectant

                                                                        Stillness.

 

It’s not a pretty sight -

It’s beautiful.

            His Body, gone.

                        Gone!  With power

                        In one resplendent moment -

                        Seal unsealed,

                                    Stone rolled,

                                                Earth jolted on its axis.

 

                        Angels appear, hallowing -

                                    Alleluia!  Alleluia!

                                                He is risen!

 

                                                            We live

                                                            Because He lives.

 

                                                                                    Oh! He is beautiful.

                                                                                    Beautiful.

 

Maude Carolan

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon & Barnes and Noble.

www.maudecarolanpych.net


Friday, March 5, 2021

The Way of the Cross

A-Poem-a-Day

 Until Resurrection Day...


The following poem tells of a poignant memory of our band of pilgrims

walking along the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem.

Image credit: pixabay.com

AT THE VIA DOLOROSA

Israel Pilgrimage—2006

 

Twelve feet below

the hustle and bustle and hawking

the crowds, the spices, the wares

of the present Via Dolorosa

lies an ancient pathway

of trodden stones

Yeshua[1] walked upon

in sandaled feet

on His way to Calvary

2000 years ago

 

ancient stones

stumbling stones

stones Yeshua, weak and weary

likely fell upon as He carried

the cumbersome crossbeam

along that terrible path

to Crucifixion

 

I remove a shoe

to feel the coolness

of hallowed ground

against my bare sole

 

We begin singing

Were You There When They

Crucified My Lord

 

and tremble

tremble, tremble

at the reading

of the Suffering Servant

in Isaiah 53

 

Millenniums

seem to disappear

It almost feels

like it’s happening here

now—

 

There’s something

timeless

about it

 

isn’t there?

 

Maude Carolan Pych



[1] Yeshua is the Name of Jesus in Hebrew.


"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"
by Maude Carolan Pych
is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
www.maudecarolanpych.net


Thursday, March 4, 2021

Thinking About Forgiveness...

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...


Image credit: hoshanarabbah.org

FATHER, FORGIVE THEM

 

It’s Good Friday

and I’m doing what I usually do—

meditating on the Cross

and then writing a poem

 

Today I am thinking about forgiveness

and unforgiveness

thinking one of the things

that makes me marvel about Jesus

is that He looked down

upon the very men who mocked Him

the ones who scourged Him

who spat in His innocent face

then crowned Him with a twisted ring of thorns

and drove nails through His hands and feet

 

Yes, He looked at them

with unfathomable mercy

in His unspeakable agony

and implored His Father

 

…forgive them

for they know not what they do

 

Then I think of myself

of injustices done to me

by people I’ve loved

people I’ve tried to forgive

and have forgiven

then taken back my forgiveness

over and over and over again

I’ve mulled over life’s unfairness

replayed injustices, feeling righteous

feeling justified

 

then am reminded (like today)

that all have sinned

so I let go and forgive again

and really want to

for God has forgiven me

so who am I

to remember puny injustices

against myself

 

Today, Jesus, as I meditate upon Your love

and the magnitude of Your sacrifice

my old wounds are infinitesimal

I don’t want to harbor them

anymore

 

I’m asking for Your help

this Good Friday afternoon

 

Help me let it all go—

 

forever

 

Maude Carolan Pych


The above poem is one of 95 poems written over a span of 30 years, about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus, that are included in my book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Consider ordering a copy. It is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For more information, go to my website at www.maudecarolanpych.net.

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"
by Maude Carolan Pych


Wednesday, March 3, 2021

All For Love...

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...


Image credit: youtube.com


IT PLEASED THE LORD TO CRUSH HIM[1]

 

When I applied stinging iodine

to the tender knees of my children

or a corrective spank

or a hug to assuage a broken heart

I remember that

their wounds, hurts

even the chastisements

probably wounded me more than them –

Why, I would've become a she-lion

poised to pounce and mangle

bruisers of my own –

yet the very God I know as Love

was pleased to crush

was delighted to bruise[2]

His Very Own

 

So, I shudder, convinced

God's ways are infinitely higher

than my finite mind can grasp –

for God stayed His almighty hand

held His almighty tongue

waited it out in His Heaven

pleased, even delighted

to give His Only Son

innocent, docile as a lamb

to be mocked, bruised, spat upon

crowned with thorn branches

stripped and nailed naked to a tree –

 

yes, pleased and delighted was He

as the Most Precious Blood

of His Only Son

rained like rubies

upon the ground

 

Pleased and delighted am I

that the God Who so loves

crushed and bruised

His Very Own

for me

 

Maude Carolan


[1] Isaiah 53:10 "New American Standard Bible"

[2] Isaiah 53:10 , "Young's Literal Translation of the Holy Bible" 


"Behold the Lamb...poetically!" by Maude Carolan Pych
is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
www.maudecarolanpych.net

Tuesday, March 2, 2021

As a Lamb to the Slaughter

A-Poem-a- Day

Until Resurrection Day...

Image credit: keziaominder.wordpress.com

PACES OF A LAMB

"He was led like a lamb to the slaughter,

and as a sheep before her shearers is silent,

so he did not open his mouth." Isaiah 53:7 N.I.V.

 

Father Bob drained the cup

and replaced the cover

on the brass pyx of Hosts.

Communion over

the two old friends

settled back

in their kitchen chairs

 

A natural storyteller

Leo began to reminisce

about Mr. Sattel

his neighbor in Roselle Park

in the 1940s –

the best bologna maker

at the pork store nearby

 

Eventually the neighbor

purchased some farmland

and moved to Penn's Grove

where he built a slaughterhouse

Leo spent time there

the summer between grammar

and high school

 

He had watched Mr. Sattel subdue

fat squealing hogs

and tenacious bulls

Saw him and his helpers

pull resisting livestock

by a rope fed through a nose ring

to another ring in the floor

where struggling animals

were systematically

slaughtered

one at a time

 

Mr. Sattel grew hardened

even provoked to anger

by the tugging and digging in of hooves

amid the ominous odor of blood

which roused the desperate instinct

against death –

 

The grueling labor of slaughter

left him no energy for grief

 

but his steel eyes glazed over

one muggy afternoon

when he told Leo,

 

"I did a lamb once.

 

It walked right alongside me

up the ramp.

 

I'll never

do it

again."

 

 

An edgy silence followed –

silent as paces of a lamb

 

 

There they sat, two white-haired friends

washed by the shed blood

of One Docile Lamb

Who walked Calvary's ramp

 

two thousand years ago

 

Maude Carolan


Note: The above poem is one of 95 about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus, included in my book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" The book is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For more information, go to www.maudecarolanpych.net.




 

Monday, March 1, 2021

"Accustomed to the Cross"

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...


Image credit: stream.org

 ACCUSTOMED TO THE CROSS

 

I’m accustomed to the Cross.

 

I’ve seen it since childhood

gleaming high atop steeples,

crucifixes behind altar rails,

on hospital walls,

on bedroom walls,

depicted in framed masterpieces,

depicted in sculpted masterpieces,

described in written masterpieces,

marking graves in cemeteries,

illustrated in holy books,

affixed to lapels,

tattooed on forearms,

hanging silver and golden

and studded with diamonds

and sapphires from the necks

of men, women, children—

hanging, hanging on my mind.

 

So accustomed, yet

sometimes it is everywhere

and I don’t see it at all.

 

Today I see it afresh

sturdy and wooden and terrifying

through Good Friday eyes

that send streams down my cheeks

as blood streams from His wounds.

I shudder,

mindful of the Man

dying upon the beams

and the reason He is there—

 

Shudder

at the horror of it, Jesus my Lamb,

at the magnitude of it, Jesus my King,

at the love upon it, Jesus my Friend,

and my gratitude for it,

O Blessed Jesus,

my precious Lord and Savior

Who by Death

and Resurrection

purchased eternal life…for me.

 

Maude Carolan



Maude at the Totowa (NJ) Library.

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!" by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

Sunday, February 28, 2021

It's What Grandmas Do

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...

Here are photos of my grandmother, Maude Lewis Walsh,

and the scrapbook she made for me in the early 1950s.

A poem about it follows.






THE SCRAPBOOK GRANDMA MADE FOR ME

 

I picked up my grandchildren

at Saint Mary’s elementary school

They tossed their heavy backpacks

into the back of the car

got in and fastened their seatbelts

They know the routine—

don’t need to be reminded anymore

 

As we drove off

I could hear them in the back seat

talking about Lent and fasting

Dean and Alana gave up electronics

Their big brother Logan

now in high school

gave up chocolate

Dean asked, “Grandma

what did you give up?”

 

I told Dean I didn’t give up

anything this Lent, instead

I give Jesus a gift of new poems—

Some days I spend quiet time

writing poems that give glory to Him

and every day I post

a Lenten poem on my blog

Dean said, “Wow! That’s a lot

of poems, Grandma!”

 

I explained that it’s perfectly fine

to give up things for 40 days, but

sometimes people do other things

like donating to a charity

or visiting the sick

or baking cookies for an elderly neighbor

anything that draws them closer to God

 

Then I thought about my own grandmother—

She lived next door

when I was growing up

Grandma loved the Lord

and often talked to me about Him

She even made me a special scrapbook

with a cardboard cover

that she decorated with flowers

she carefully cut

from a Burpee seed catalog

The scrapbook contained pictures of children

kittens and puppies, and Howdy Doody

but more importantly, it contained

the 11 chapter story by Charles Dickens

that he wrote for his children in the 1840s

called, The Life of Our Lord

The story was published as a serial

in the Paterson Morning Call, in the 1950s

 

I still have that scrapbook

still appreciate that Grandma took the time

to make it just for me

 

It’s the kind of thing grandmas do—

Important things like that

 

Maude Carolan Pych


Maude Carolan Pych

My book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" is available online

at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

For information go to www.maudecarolanpych.net.