Sunday, April 26, 2020

Sometimes We Need a Miracle

Today I have a new poem to share, inspired this week by the news of the many afflictions and deaths in New York and New Jersey, amid this worldwide Covid-19 pandemic...and about the miracles we are praying for and the HOPE we can only find in Jesus...

Painting by Jeremy Winborg


Another one—

My brother called a few minutes ago
to tell me his friend died
of the Coronavirus

This pandemic is unrelenting
Thousands have died here in New Jersey
as many as in a small country—
Too many deaths
even for the funeral homes
to handle

My prayer list is long
and keeps getting longer
I cross off names
and add some

I’ve been reading about Jairus
the synagogue official
who fell at Jesus’ feet
begging Him to come
heal his dying daughter

so Jesus went
and as they walked
crowds pressed against them

In the midst of the commotion
a woman touched the fringe
of Jesus’ cloak
and He felt power
go out from Him
At that moment she knew
she was healed
The woman told Him
she’d been hemorrhaging
for twelve years

They continued on their way
and someone stopped Jairus
to say his daughter had died

Jesus told him not to fear
but believe
so on they went

When they arrived
there was mournful weeping
and bitter wailing
but Jesus told them
the girl was sleeping

They responded
by laughing in His face

Jesus went inside the house
took the little girl’s hand
in His, and said


At His word
her eyes opened
breath returned to her
and she got up and walked

Now I pause to imagine
if Jesus were here today
in the midst of this virus
how multitudes would
seek Him, how they would
flock around Him
and press against Him
wrenching His cloak
tugging at His arms
pulling Him
this way, that way
beseeching and imploring

Come with me, Jesus…
Oh! come with me, Jesus…
Come with me!…me!…

Oh! Sometimes we desperately
need a miracle
…like Jairus

and always, we definitely need

Maude Carolan Pych

Saturday, April 18, 2020

In Memory of Leo F. Carolan

Leo F. Carolan
April 19, 1930 - March 11, 2004

In Memory of Leo F. Carolan
on what would have been his 90th birthday.


Leo would travel anywhere for good bread
He'd call ahead for four-pound loaves
of Russian rye from Pechter's in Harrison
or drive to Calandra's in Newark
for pannellas, sesame seeded bastones
and golden semolinas
He'd travel to Balthazar's in Englewood
or The Baker's Wife in Tappan, New York
for multi-grains, great marbled masterpieces
or crusty artisan ciabattas
His old Chevy would retain the yeasty aroma for days
He'd share the good bread
with relatives, friends, neighbors, and co-workers
People called him, "The Bread Man"

That was the good bread
Leo also shared the Best Bread

He administered the Best Bread
with well-baked crustiness gleaned
from working twenty-five years
as a probation officer
and the soft interior texture
born of a kneaded spirit
There were those
who tore into it impatiently
and devoured the entire loaf
without condiment, while still warm
Others thoughtfully partook
the nourishment for body and soul

He always left them
with something fresh to chew
and a few seeds for ongoing growth
He always left them
with the lingering fragrance
of the presence of the Lord

Taste and see…
Take and eat…

Maude Carolan

Sunday, April 12, 2020

He is Risen. Alleluia!

Until Resurrection Day

He is Risen...

Image credit:


It’s Holy Saturday

Dough is rising
on the kitchen counter

filling me with thoughts
of rising

helium balloons
set free

over the Sea of Galilee

waking up


soap bubbles
floating skyward

seagulls soaring

booming and bursting

jet planes at take-off

rocket ships
with long trails of fire
zooming to the moon

O, but nothing


and no one

has ever done it

or will

…like Jesus

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem is one of 98 poems in my new book about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus. It is depicted below and is titled, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. The book is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For information, go to

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

Saturday, April 11, 2020

The Tomb is Empty...

Until Resurrection Day

Photo credit:

Israel Pilgrimage--2006

Some believe
the Body of Messiah was placed
in the highly venerated
tomb located in the Church
of the Holy Sepulcher

Some believe
He was buried
in a pastoral place
known as the Garden Tomb

The important thing is—
He died. He rose.
He’ll come again.

The important thing is
as a placard proclaims
at the entrance
to the Garden Tomb:

He is not here—
He is risen from the dead

and the important thing is
our sins are atoned—

We live because He lives

so there’s nothing
left to say, except


Praise be to Jesus, Our Risen Savior!

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It's available online at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. For information, go to

Friday, April 10, 2020

"The Pieta"

Until Resurrection Day

Today is Good Friday...

Image credit:


After the earthquake
the peals of thunder
the flashes of lightning across the sky
After the curious crowds dispersed
Mary sat in ominous dimness
upon a mound of earth
at the base of the Cross
clutching the body
of her Son

She cradled Him
in the hollow of her lap
close to her bosom
as she had
when he was
her baby boy

Mary removed
thorns of mockery
that encircled His forehead
and tossed it to the side
Straining to see in the shadows
she carefully picked
fragments of thorn needles
still stuck in His lifeless flesh
although they couldn’t hurt Him
any longer

With her fingertips
she tenderly closed the lids
over His dark, vacant eyes
and smoothed
the disheveled, matted hair
…then she kissed Him

O, my beautiful Son…

Tears flowed
down her face onto His cheeks
mingling with dried blood
With the edge of her garment
she wiped some blood away

John came
and rested his hand
upon her trembling shoulder
He was now her son
She was now his mother

too deep to comprehend
swirled in her mind
like the flap and flutter
of wings and overshadowing
Son of the Most High
and David’s throne

like pregnant Elizabeth’s joy
when the baby leapt in her womb
and the Baptizer himself, when grown
proclaiming his younger cousin
“The Lamb of God, Who
takes away the sin of the world”

and Simeon’s prophesy
that Jesus would be
a Light of revelation
to the Gentiles and the glory
of the people of Israel

Where is the Light?
Where is the glory?
Where is the throne?

Overwhelmed by sorrow
so intense it stabbed her
deep, deep in her inner parts
Mary cried out in anguish
and rent her robe

Was this what old Simeon meant
long ago in the Temple
when he held Jesus in his arms
and said a sword would pierce
my very soul?

O my Son, my beautiful Son…

I cannot fathom the ways of God, but

I do know this cannot be the end

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is depicted below and is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For information, go to

Behold the Lamb...poetically!
By Maude Carolan Pych

Thursday, April 9, 2020

"Sunflowers Along Emmaus Road"

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit:

Israel Pilgrimage—1986

A field of big, bodacious sunflowers
seem to be a great cathedral choir
singing the Hallelujah Chorus
with exultation
while sun-shining millions
of dazzling petal spires upon us
along Emmaus Road

It is fitting
because I am ablaze
with Jesus-joy
to be here

as I think about my newly
Resurrected Lord, vanishing
at the very breaking
of the bread

astonishing the disciples
who sat with Him
at table

Those utterly bewildered disciples
whose hearts thumped
and blazed
with glory fire
as He walked with them
as He explained to them
the Holy Scriptures

2000 years ago
along this very road

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem is one of 98 poems included in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For more information go to

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

It's Passover...

Until Resurrection Day

A Blessed Passover
To my Jewish & Messianic friends!

Image credit:


It’s only ordinary unleavened bread
Ordinary matzoh
On an earthen plate
It probably came
From a supermarket shelf
A Manischewitz box
Ordinary matzoh
Blessed for Passover
Oh, but when I take it
And cradle it lovingly
In my hands
Break it and bless it
It is for me
Most Holy Bread
Good Friday Bread
Body of the Lamb that was slain
With my cup of Redemption
Communion Bread
Lechem without hametz
Without yeast of sin
Shrouded afikomen
Then resurrected
With glory
I partake
Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Maude Carolan

This poem has been published in William W. Francis’ book, Celebrate the Feasts of The Lord. Crest Books.

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information, go to

Tuesday, April 7, 2020

"Along Emmaus Road"

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit:

Luke 24 & Isaiah 53 NASB

I’m sitting in the kitchen
with my Bible open
reading about the men
who were walking to Emmaus
the Sunday following the Crucifixion

thinking how bewildered they were
and dismayed that the one
they supposed was their savior was gone—
He died upon that Cross on Friday
leaving their hopes completely dashed

and I’m thinking about Jesus
joining them on their journey
as a complete stranger
bringing the hope of the Gospel
as He explained about Himself in the Tanakh
without revealing that they were actually walking
the seven miles to Emmaus
with their newly Resurrected Lord

I flip through the pages
and see Jesus handwritten in the margins
of the Old Testament, over and over
wherever I’ve discovered Him anew
and recall each exciting revelation

and imagine their amazement
as they listened to Jesus
revealing Himself as He spoke
about Moses and the Prophets
particularly when He came to the part
about the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 53
How exciting it had to have been to hear it
from the lips of the Suffering Servant, Himself—

Despised and forsaken
a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief
smitten of God and afflicted
pierced for our transgressions
crushed for our iniquities
by whose scourging we were healed

Who like a lamb was led to the slaughter
Who like a sheep, was silent before its shearers

assigned a grave with wicked men
but was with a rich man in death

He rendered Himself as a guilt offering
and God would prolong His days


I visualize the men
clutching their burning hearts

When they reached their destination
they invited the stranger to stay with them
because the hour was late

and as they gathered around a table
to partake of an evening meal
Jesus lifted a loaf to bless—

Suddenly their eyes beheld
His nail-pierced hands!

and as He broke their humble bread
they recognized Him

In that instant Jesus vanished!

but the words He spoke
along the road that day
were permanently seared
upon their hearts

so they rose from the table
and hurried off that very hour
all the way back to Jerusalem, in the dark
to tell the disciples of all the wonders
that happened that remarkable day

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book (depicted below), "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information, go to

Behold the Lamb...poetically!
By Maude Carolan Pych

Monday, April 6, 2020

"At the Via Dolorosa"

Until Resurrection Day

Photo credit:

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 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

seem to disappear
It almost feels
like it’s happening here

There’s something
about it

isn’t there?

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem is one of 98 included in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information go to

Sunday, April 5, 2020

It's Palm Sunday

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit:


It’s Lent—
I’m sitting here meditating
upon that final week
wondering what happened to His followers
after Jesus entered Jerusalem
riding astride a donkey
as people spread their coats before Him
along the dusty road
Wondering about those followers
the ones who cut branches from palm trees
and waved them at Him in homage, proclaiming

Hosanna to the Son of David!
Hosanna in the highest!

After all, He was their humble King

I’m sitting here wondering what happened
between then and days later
when Jesus stood before Pilate
amid a crowd of onlookers
persuasive chief priests and elders
and everyone began shouting

Crucify Him! Crucify Him!

Did they forget the taste of water
that He turned into wine?

Did they forget the healed lepers and the blind?

Did they forget Him preaching
to the multitudes, Blessed be the poor…
and the thousands He fed with a few loaves and fish

Did they forget He healed a pitiful demoniac
and the woman with an issue of blood

Could they have forgotten that he said to the dead girl,
Talitha kum, and she sprang right up and walked

And Lazarus? Could they possibly have forgotten
that Jesus called His friend out of the tomb
and Lazarus emerged, grave clothes coiled
around his body…after three days!

I’m still sitting here wondering about
how quickly they turned
from their hosannas
to calling for His death

Wasn’t there one clear-headed believer
one unable-to-be-swayed witness
one unshakable faithful-unto-death follower
to boldly shout out in protest…


No. There wasn’t

Not even one

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information go to

Behold the Lamb...poetically!
By Maude Carolan Pych