"...imbued with emotional power." - KCUR/NPR (Kansas City)

The Heart

In the meadow of the heart
Alive in the swaying of the grass
In the warm and gentle breeze,
In the beetles, bees and butterflies
That keep the meadow new
In the tiny Golden Mayfly
Gently resting on my hand
In her fine diaphanous wings
As they brush across my pen
In the acrobatic cinnamon-breasted prairie bird Say’s Phoebe
In her fluttering and her dancing diving right above my head
Guardian and protectress, regal, bright and pure
Daughter of the Moon, and minister of hearts
In the infinitely subtle colors joined in love and touching heaven…
There is a yearning

In the lake of the heart
Its clear surface and unknown depths
Alive in the lapping of the waves
The reflection of the moon
The whisper of the reed-grass
The lamentations of the Loon
In the spreading rings of raindrops
And of rising feeding fish
In the slow and gentle turtle
And the diving feeding ducks
In all that it sustains, joined in love and touching heaven…
There is a longing

But in the chapel of the heart
Alone in the fading glow of saints
The dying echo of angel choirs
And the thinning scent of frankincense
In the silence of our longing
And the burning of our yearning
In the deep and empty dark of our despair
We meet our Mother
She lights a candle
And in its warm, flickering glow, as if in a vision,
We see His face, His soft, loving eyes
She touches our heart and says,
“This is my Son, who lives in you
This is the Christ, reborn in you
Come home to Him
Come home to your heart
Come home to love.”