udith’s Poetry

Lent

Lenten Haiku

Holy Spirit drove
Christ to his lone wilderness;
In Lent we follow.

Desert sands stretch out
Oases beckon me on;
Stones and bread are one.

Sand-duned gold cities
Grow up before me; they call
To give me a crown.

Church towers rise up;
Their bells speak tempting words;
Angels trembling wait.

Devil’s temptation
Called out in the wilderness;
Jesus overcame.

© Judith Lawrence, 2010

Shrove Tuesday

Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear to my cry; hold not your peace at my tears. I confess I have done wrong in your sight; I have sinned against you, against my friends and my enemies.

I am sorry for my sins and I weep tears at the horror of what I have done. Hold not your peace from me, O Lord, and forgive me I pray.
Your rebuke is my punishment; I shed tears at your hurt. You give me my penance, and I give you my praise. I give back what I owe and return what I stole; I beg forgiveness from my neighbour and you rejoice at my return to your love.

Today, I can feast in the abundance of your house with abandon, and drink from the river of your delights. You have released me from my sin and I know the freedom of being in your love.

Tomorrow, I will put on sack cloth and ashes and do secret penance through Lent’s forty days. Among people I will wash my face and put on fine clothes—penance is between God and me.

I will prepare for the suffering and death of my Saviour and await his resurrection on the Third Day.

Blessed be confession, blessed be penance, and blessed be absolution.
Blessed be the Resurrection of the Lord.

Shrovetide

Three things will I do in Shrovetide,
Four will bring blessing to me.

I will confess my sins with my whole heart,
I will receive absolution from God,
I will rejoice in the renewal of life,
And feast in the knowledge of your forgiveness.

Christ’s Wilderness

In the wilderness
Alone with the Father,
Christ searched his thoughts,
His heart, his soul.
For forty scorching days,
For forty freezing nights,
Christ searched for truth and honesty.
The devil taunted, tempted him,
Christ withstood it all.
Tired, hungry but stronger
Christ turned from the wilderness pause.
He faced his destiny,
Ready to do God’s will.
Angels supported him;
Disciples learned from him;
People flocked to him and were healed.

Lenten Pilgrimage

I follow Christ in desert places
And there I find fresh springs.
I am led by the Holy Spirit
To search out my journey’s path;

I am a pilgrim in wilderness ways.

In desert’s scorching days
I seek the Sacred One;
In desert’s coldest nights
I search out the Divine;
In desert’s oases I seek the Holy One
And I am given rest and refreshment.

I am a pilgrim in wilderness ways;
I am a pilgrim on desert paths.

Rowan Tree
[Author’s note: Welsh tradition has it that the tree of Christ’s crucifixion was a rowan tree, which is why its berries look like drops of blood.]

A Conversation between Christ and the Rowan Tree

O Rowan Tree, weep not for me.
Limb on limb, I lie outstretched,
Thou hold’st me up in thine own arms,
Thou cradlest me from birth.
Weep not, weep not, O Rowan Tree,
Weep not for me.

O Christ, I can’st but weep for Thee,
I sorrow to be the instrument of torture for Thy limbs.
My tears pour down in steady flow,
The sap pours from my wounds,
Where nails have held Thee fast to me.
I did but wish to cradle Thee as in the manger days,
And now I weep from guilt.
Sorrowing, I weep for Thee.

O Rowan Tree, thou should’st not weep,
The sin is man’s not thine.
See, here, I bless thy flowing tears

And make them drops of wine.
Blood red, henceforth, thy berries be,
Thy berries, red as blood,
Thy tears, blood red as wine,
Wine red, as my own blood.

Forty days of wilderness
You ask of me, Lord;
What is it I am to seek?
What is it I am to find?

Forty days of wilderness
You give to me, Lord;
What will be your gift to me?
What will be your treasure?

I desire to seek you Lord;
I desire to find you.
You give the gift of your presence, Lord,
That will be my treasure.

Desert sands call to us
Oases bring us rest and shade;
Lenten hours of quiet time
Renew us in our faith.

My spirit cannot gain a quiet moment,
It cannot hear your voice out in the world
Amongst the mighty torrent that surrounds it
From morning radio blare to traffic roar.
Too many images bombard my tired eyes
And holiness is lost
Within the tragic sights
Of murder, war, and cruelty on nightly news.

A breath of quiet calls me to the wilderness
To heal my inward ears and eyes;
To give my soul and spirit rest
In open desert and oasis shade.
I pitch my tent beneath the spacious skies
And count the heavenly bodies bright above.
Each star pronounces healing to my troubled sighs
Through the Creator’s vast and wondrous love.

Here in the wilderness, my restless anguish is released.
My soul and body, mind and spirit
Open to renewal, like flowers in the sun;
I am freed to see and hear the truth again.
I prepare to walk into the world once more
To offer myself in God’s service,
To give myself in Christ’s love.
Here I am, receive me; here I am, send me.