the Icon Unpainted
How do we tell the story?
when God came into the world, when Enoch’s hand touched his children, Abel’s blood poured into new flesh, Ezekiel’s wall crumbled, and Rachel’s lullaby came into verse How do we imagine eternity on the brink? waiting, sleeping, crawling toward becoming A darkness covering the Abyss and mighty wind sweeping over the waters, The Father about to speak: breath taken, mouth open, Word has been formed, silence holds, still How do I convey the image of that enduring silence? frozen in the lake, dulled to the piercing lance, unshattered with the crispness of glass; a silence sustained in the murkiness of ice, dense, compact, drowning, swallowing cries from the wilderness, unheard and unknown from above, unseen, dying, undisturbed, surrendered without witness How do I paint the portrait of that final breath before battle? the waves not yet crashing against the shore, water unbroken, city walls firm and unblemished, guardsmen and attendants still sleeping; an eve of slumber without soldiers, without friends, neither companion, nor betrayer, no allies, no enemies, no borders, territories, or battle lines How do I draw this world? on the precipice, unaware, without shot fired, no arrow loosed, nor spear thrust; the sword remains in the scabbard, a prince arriving in the night, the King of dawn placing upon his shoulders the burdens of a people, the yoke of their toil, tears of banishment and wounds of adultery How can I speak with words? simple and colorful; three ambassadors waiting in blackness, bells ringing from the girth beneath, tributes of anointing jostling firmly; twelve feet marching toward the dawn in stillness and perfect quiet, the signs of allusions treading before them, eyes of Seraphim trailing behind How do I express the words of a mother? steeped with child; a mother caught in the midst of her own son, waiting to give birth, a package given to the world, and birth nearly given to her; “Was my heart not burning from within as you danced in my womb?” How can I describe the father? Reigns grasped in hand, motionless, frozen as he leads the mother forward; the sweat of his brow that does not drip to the sandy earth, worn and tattered sandals scuffing silently against stone footholds, a foot planted in air, the rock ready to receive its servant How do I paint these silhouettes in their size? shadows motionless against the stars captured in stills for the Maker to seize; life-blood flowing and churning against the curtain, the warmth of the universe lending support, vibrant lives cooled in anonymity? How do I point the way to the unseen cave? upon the hill, the upper chamber locked secure for the truth to be revealed How do I tell this people? of the glorious coming they await: a luminescence breathing from within and showering from heaven above; |
What do I say to the earth?
to reveal its own cries and groans of creation, the anguish, comfort and confidence of a moment that is to arrive, tarrying around the mountain, kneeling before the serpent, water springing from the rock, waiting to be captured in the dew fall How do I share of the infinite Love of the Father? perched for landing, stuttering upon words that have yet to be spoken; Word spoken in the beginning, a breath captured, hovering over the darkness, life pouring forth, vacant and infused How do I write in words and in shadows? the moments before the coming of God into the World; that singularly perfect silence of baited breath, Peace raining toward a parched earth, a thirst unquenched, paused before the droplets spill How do I recall that moment when he is not reached, but has arrived? when the bounty is paid, before the tribute is received; before the hammer falls, and the wood splits, the splinters creak, the crown is woven, and an already dying tree is planted on the hill We move forward, motionless into the distance, quenching, gnawing, hungering and satisfied in that one perfect instant of life poured into the smallest vessel, soundless, careless, feeling-less, emptiness staring above the mother’s eyes toward the heavens, from where he came, agaze at the stars and moon he created, frightened, tearful, waiting and impatient. Life come into existence for all time, Light to be celebrated for all time, in all time, all places, caves, caverns and crevices, on every hill and mountain, through the valleys, rivers and highways, through the depths of oceans and glaciers afloat. How do we tell of this tiny moment? the world waited, the mother and father waited, wise men paused in calculated journey; the stars, the shepherds, the angels, the kings, warriors and maids; the promises fulfilled, prophets restored and reminded; Wisdom waiting to be spoken, waiting to be beckoned, to be sent and embraced by all, arrived, not yet here; the Son’s rays piercing the night-- this very moment when his light reaches the young babe’s eyes, before warmth touches his face; the moment as the boat leaves the shore, the waters ripple, breath stirs the sand, and the land stares vacantly before it is free. How do I tell of this moment? when a virgin cries in birth that she does not give and looks to the face of the Father: how will this be, that I may receive the gift unopened, that the one to deliver me should be delivered unto me? How do we tell of This moment? What simple task? What simple life can we paint for a picture of eternity stopped, mid-step of its journey? The hoof falls; the bridle bit; reigns grasped tightly in hand; eyes affixed forward; heart racing wildly; palms sweating; seat churning, burning against saddled leather; bells ringing gently under girth, blankets rustling in absent wind; doors unanswered at the knocking; moonlight glimmers in silhouettes; mouths stand agape; ready to receive, the Word unspoken; the Icon unpainted. --Br. Kendall, O.Carm. |
Agnes
I know how much you loved her,
How intensely you loved and cherished her,
how she loved and cherished you;
how much of a gift you were to her,
a grace bestowed on her life,
chosen to be born to you.
Every moment,
no matter how joyous or sad,
no matter how tranquil or distressing,
how noisy or how quiet,
how calm or upsetting,
filled with elation, or pulled down into depression;
every moment,
no matter how much peace or
how much fear it brought to her
each moment with her,
you cherished her
and gave everything to her
It was not in clothing and toys
the most elaborate baby bed, nor an off-roading stroller,
not in hanging mobiles nor armies of stuffed animals;
But in everything that mattered
everything that is most meaningful
You gave to her:
Your love, your thoughts,
Your concerns, worries and compassion;
You gave to her the Spirit of a mother and father
the passing of one life to the next--
You gave to her yours
You gave to her your prayers and your hopes,
your knowledge and Wisdom,
your desire, your passion, your love,
your compassion, your trust,
kindness, sharing, and comfort
you gave to her
And now,
as she has passed from one life to her next,
we do mourn her and remember her,
all that we (you) gave to her,
and all that she gave to us:
The laughter, the cries, the sleepless nights
and shallow breaths;
the frightful moments, and
intimacy of feeding at the breast;
her smile, her gleaming eyes,
the soft cloudiness when she might not be well,
her warm skin pressed against yours,
and the touch of coolness,
that brought panic to your eyes;
tiny fingers gripped around yours,
the soft rise of her belly button...
gentle protrusion of her tummy...
lungs rising
with the motion of each breath;
All she has given to you
That you may bear in trust and safe-keeping
her joy, her happiness
her hunger, sadness, and pain;
Your joy, your happiness,
your hunger, sadness, and pain
all bound together,
held in perfect union
memories now tethered by strings of grief and mourning
How intensely you loved and cherished her,
how she loved and cherished you;
how much of a gift you were to her,
a grace bestowed on her life,
chosen to be born to you.
Every moment,
no matter how joyous or sad,
no matter how tranquil or distressing,
how noisy or how quiet,
how calm or upsetting,
filled with elation, or pulled down into depression;
every moment,
no matter how much peace or
how much fear it brought to her
each moment with her,
you cherished her
and gave everything to her
It was not in clothing and toys
the most elaborate baby bed, nor an off-roading stroller,
not in hanging mobiles nor armies of stuffed animals;
But in everything that mattered
everything that is most meaningful
You gave to her:
Your love, your thoughts,
Your concerns, worries and compassion;
You gave to her the Spirit of a mother and father
the passing of one life to the next--
You gave to her yours
You gave to her your prayers and your hopes,
your knowledge and Wisdom,
your desire, your passion, your love,
your compassion, your trust,
kindness, sharing, and comfort
you gave to her
And now,
as she has passed from one life to her next,
we do mourn her and remember her,
all that we (you) gave to her,
and all that she gave to us:
The laughter, the cries, the sleepless nights
and shallow breaths;
the frightful moments, and
intimacy of feeding at the breast;
her smile, her gleaming eyes,
the soft cloudiness when she might not be well,
her warm skin pressed against yours,
and the touch of coolness,
that brought panic to your eyes;
tiny fingers gripped around yours,
the soft rise of her belly button...
gentle protrusion of her tummy...
lungs rising
with the motion of each breath;
All she has given to you
That you may bear in trust and safe-keeping
her joy, her happiness
her hunger, sadness, and pain;
Your joy, your happiness,
your hunger, sadness, and pain
all bound together,
held in perfect union
memories now tethered by strings of grief and mourning