Saint Therese of the Child Jesus – Readings | Sacred Space

Saint Therese of the Child Jesus – Readings | Sacred Space

26 Sunday of Ordinary Time | Sacred Space

26 Sunday of Ordinary Time | Sacred Space

"Sometimes"...

~ Children

Begin

by

Loving

Their Parents;

as

They

Grow Older

They

Judge

Them,

Sometimes...

They

Forgive

Them.

~Oscar Wilde

Ireland

~Beannaichte'

25 September, 2013

@beannaichte.twitter.com

   

26 Sunday of Ordinary Time | Sacred Space

26 Sunday of Ordinary Time | Sacred Space

"One Day"

~Some Time

They'll

Give

a

War

and

Nobody

Will

Show Up.

~Carl Sandburg

U.S.A.

(1878-1967)

~Beannaichte'

20 September, 2013

  

@beannaichte.twitter.com 

  

"Black Elk's Prayer on Harney Peak"

Grandfather,

 Great Mysterious One, You have been always,

and before You nothing has been.

The Star Nations all over the Universe are Yours,

and Yours are the grasses of the Earth.

Day in, day out, You are the life of things.

You are older than all need, older than all pain and prayer.

Grandfather, all over the world the faces

of Living Ones are alike.

In tenderness they have come up out of the ground.

Look upon your Children with Children in their arms,

that they may face the winds and walk the Good Road

to the Day of Quiet.

Teach me to walk the soft earth, a relative to all that live.

Sweeten my Heart, and fill me with Light.

Give me the strength to understand and the eyes to see.

Help me, for without You,

I am nothing. 

~John Neihardt

~Beannaichte'

23 October, 2012

TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR | Sacred Space

TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR | Sacred Space

"In Remembrance"

God looked down,

at the carnage of Life;

caused by folly,

of mere mortal Generals.

The trenches dug

by the sweat of many.

Filled with bodies,

 that were the Seeds of Youth:

for the generations of Nations.

Serving now as only plowed furrows;

In the fields of the dead.

All this He saw;

the waste of mankind,

the futility of War;

and He wept.

Such was His grief,

that His tears rained down.

Churning the ground into mud;

until the ugly scars of war,

were covered.

He caused the Poppy to grow there;

with leaves of haigh green ;

a hue rarely seen.

The petals were blood red,

as ran the fields of the dead. 

The centre was black,

the colour of mourning. 

To remind us all,

"Lest we should forget."

Some only remember,

for two minutes,

on a Sunday in November.

During the service from the Cenotaph...

Many don't  remember then.

~Dusti Rodes

U.K.

~Beannaichte'*
@beannaichte.twitter.com

9 September, 2013

* Dusti is a fellow writer and poet. He has left several of his timely offerings in the comment section of my blog.

I appreciate the opportunity to share his work, on this format.  His words are well-honed, yet have the amazing ability to draw the reader in, at a soul-level-always strong and true.

The above work can be located in the comment section, dated 5 September, 2013.

Dusti can be found on Twitter @dusti_rodes.twitter.com 

                

TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR | Sacred Space

TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR | Sacred Space

TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR | Sacred Space

TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR | Sacred Space