Strands

 

“Of His fulness we all have received.” John 1:16

That the numinous calling is ubiquitous,

One strand; numerous answers to objections,

Another; music, art, soaring cathedrals and beautiful liturgies,

Still more; a recorded, time tested, repeated,

Testament of miracles, the Shroud of Turin, 

Near death experiences, the sense of well-being

(Even if only psychological),

An intellectual tradition among like minded friends.

How does one break down or reduce Infinite Goodness? 

Since Baptism this is the Light that has not gone out;

A daily renovation by the Holy Spirit;

The name of Jesus gently washing upon every shore.

Taken together, twisted, an unbreakable cable,

Suspending the bridge between the here and the There.

Gary Edward Geraci

Forever Free

 

Pondering the violence of cremation,

One must concede it is a posthumous 

Act. the composite, body/soul creation

Has been halved, inanimate matter, thus 

Readied for the fire chamber. separation

Sends off the immortal, speaking without mouth,

Its particular judgement determined at death,

To the Beatific Vision, its celebration.

The purification is not free of pain,  

A preparation for newness of state,

A purgation of all hindering stain.

This same bodiless person: a new slate

Of sorts, a spotless soul seeking to gain,

A glorified body forever free of hate.

Gary Edward Geraci

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

 

Self instruction in the humanities,

Of sorts, its own ‘college of the liberal arts:’

Great Books, read through the knocks of door-to-door sales,

Concomitant rejection, and false starts;

Earl Nightingale; the excess of the eighties;

The scribbled song, the “next big hit”, the parts

I would play if I could play; breaking hearts;

Positive mental attitude cassette tapes.

Everybody is always counting something:

Degrees, poems, books, likes, and followers;

Churches count families and total tithings;

I tally too, without the call of editors,

(Humble priests number their homily writings)

Completely free to multiply the name of Jesus!

Gary Edward Geraci

A Pact Gift

 

It is, with a relative ease, I write

Rhyme’s about sin. Being a great sinner,

The actions and thoughts flow free. The details might

Matter in confession; or at the kneeler

By the bed, but not here; my lips are tight.

Suffice to say we are the same; our sins ever

Before an infinite, loving God, who wills to deliver

Us, redeem us, and save us for heavenly flight.

Of small sin, I’m cleansed during the Penitential Act,

Recited daily in the Mass. I can now eat

And drink, without guilt of sinning by fact

Against, the body and blood of our sweet

Lord, Jesus, who suffered, died, and rose; a pact

Gift from the One we daily mock and beat.

Gary Edward Geraci

Earthly Palaces

 

Earthly palaces, scattered the world round,

Are as much yours as they are, as such, mine.

Inside, the body is defined and bound,

In a sacred cadence with Bread and Wine;

Fine statues, stations, stained glass, and bells sound;

A sacred altar is where the guests all dine.

One organism, of bone and flesh, a sign,

A mystical presence; its Head: King, crowned.

Why today are so many in exile?

“My ghost has thrown off the yoke!” they proclaim,

Blaspheming the Lord who foresaw the pew and aisle

As the meeting place to kindle the flame,

All of human creation, Jew and Gentile,

A sure house for healing the sick and lame.

Gary Edward Geraci