The sun sets and sets

the panes on fire

stained light pours in

and pools on the floor

where fire is gathered

and soaked up by song.

Shinning Ruby facets

dripping to earth below

thirsting for love.


His banner over you is love. Can you hear him? He says to you ‘my banner over you is love’ but this is a battle standard. The banner is love, but it is held up by faith. It seems to me that at times, in the midst of the battle, when the clamor is all around us, even above us, we are unable to see the banner, yet we know it is there because we feel its weight as we hold tightly to the pole of faith which unites us to his love. As we march into battle we have to keep that banner before our eyes, in our heart and mind. We must never let go of the faith that keeps it aloft, even as we are cut and wounded deeply, even in what seems our dying breath, never let your bloodless fingers drop, for no one can take it from your hands. Remember who is victorious, who has conquered death!


This is a poem I wrote for my priest friends for the feast of St John Vianney

putting on the

blood embroidered blossoms

pulsing thread strong as God

where nails sew you in two

That we may be one

Purpled lips

washed and stained, mystery untold

pressed against his open side

drinking from a chalice gold

I thirst

pierced on the altar

heart lacerated, now you

printed indelibly with an open wound of love

set apart to be given

consecrate them in the Truth

perfection of the eternal priest

is yours to live and move and be

pursuit, prevail, the battle where the ruby facets fall

for the victory eternally

you are a priest forever


Waves of a thousand leaves on a thousand poplar trees, flashing dance of silver and pale shimmer green, reflecting the wind that blows. And living marble skies that play with dark and light, veins of white course life in lifeless grey. Bright clouds overshadow.

Giants clamor in other clouds, and violent rain gives way, but these silent vapors pour and lift and break before them. And the faster wind keeps pace.

The smell of rain and thyme, a green and purple scent, fresh and bright to draw bigger steps. Symphonies only seen in rings in puddles but the percussion plays on.

The silhouette of rugged peaks reflect the new mountains beneath, a band of light between, and a hidden pass to come.


Look up to fall into depths

Further and further dark

Pinpricks of light through heavy shadow drape

Straining eyes, my soul sees further

Glimpse of eternal

Glimpse of expanse

Yet untouched

Yet untouched

Draw back the darkness

When can I dwell in the home I’ve never seen

And fall forever into the heights


Spin the silken sun

Light stretched out, 

cloaked in mourning sky

draped tied knotted bands 

folded embroidered stars 

dance weave, 

knit flesh of light, 

clothed in God


Maranatha! Come, maranatha! Come!

The world in night awaits the dawn, the Son

the Son, whose Spirit overshadowed her

Now hidden in the shadow of her womb

Weightless crystals weighed with light of ancient stars

Descend to greet the Light, himself descended

Maria weighed with the Word, the Light, the Face

the shinning face of God long sought by men

Abraham’s promise, sojourn; pilgrim, rest

Cry, come! The night far spent, our Dawn, come stay

Hidden pilgrim held in your mother’s heart

Agèd lights from dark hold celestial breath

From beyond time, whispered hope, hushèd night

Their ancient voice waits for winter blossom

A flame, flickering through the darkness

Countless ages hope in expectation

Maranatha! Come! Maranatha, come!


In the beginning was the Word

and this word spoke the stars

so they will sing to you

of being, shining, eternity

being that sustains you becoming

until you be again

years ago you were given becoming

the time before and the time before you

beyond death, born to Eternity

behold, seeing being we are

behold the pierced one

Shining arms outstretched

flowing eternity

these Pilgrim markers counting up

counting down, counting young,

till till we grow light

becoming less and more

he must increase and I must decrease

transformed to what clothes you – Him- light cloaked in love


Obsidian dark seeps like water and freezes and fractures. 

Fractures my oblivion, pierces ruby fractals blood drips

Obsidian night. Looking at it draws all the light from my eyes

Nothingness becomes present.

Deep Deep Dark Deep a heartbeat, rhythms of eternity, pierced deeper and deeper

A hidden place. Obsidian dark goes deep, and the golden Ruby drops gurgle and seep somewhere else but there is a place I have never been by myself. It is very hidden, it is below the wound and the dark passage is dug in a pain that is a light and the darkness and light become the same thing. I cannot reach it myself but the Lord has the only right and way to enter there. It is more expansive there than the whole universe, but I’ve only ever glimpsed it out of the corner of my eye. What does it mean to hide yourself to find the hidden God? The bridegroom lives there, the bridegroom wounds there. He is within me and mysterious and hidden and when can I see his face and be left in oblivion and woundedness and the death of love and beauty caused by the sight.

A gold thread and a red thread. And an arrow needle that wounds again and again but sews and binds with every stitch pours beauty


(A poem from Taryn while on a retreat in October 2020)

Wisps of soft white tendrils

float over the dark ridge

pulled fibers

caught in azure eddies

flowering in fire as the

sun touches them

rippling the celestial fabric

blue emproidered white and gold

Our Lady’s crecent broach

and the serpent crushed

beneath her beauty

Silence reigns in these mountains,

all the growing moving things are quiet,

The earth is silent in expectation….

Hear the wind, what is that?

Sound sounding… loud and whispering…

Something sounderous and unseen,

Invisible Giant with soft steps

passing by the standing pines

spreading his stroke over the uppermost brances

flooding the forest with sweet scent.

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