Sunday’s Hope!

can be so cruel.
At times, mourning finds slim consolation in burying the old.
Yet, what can be said when the grave swallows the youth, a mother, a child, leaving
their story untold?

Inconsolable questions,
pace anxiously amid the mourners.
Until, One was sent in human solidarity,
to die no more…
For Jesus was resurrected, answering questions haunting mortality,
The I AM’s rising,
allows hope to soar.

Hope! Hope!
Beyond the pale of man’s invention,
Hope incarnated in its rising,
for Our Redeemer lives!
The Eternal Word now speaks after the silence of the cross.
Love arose,
in the power to forgive.

Love! Insatiable Love!
held Christ to His cross.
Love tore open the veil of His heart,
Ever wider to swallow,
Every jeer and taunt,
our scapegoating and violence,
conforming our attacks,
upon Calvary’s gallow.

Now! Now is the time,
before our last given heart beat,
to tear open our veils,
exposing doubt and despondency.
To make way for this risen light of all men,
which is Love and Mercy itself.
To offer a home for hope,
to shine within,
for Our Redeemer friend.

by Chris Clody

Rising Amid Hope

Hope’s libation pours out from the struggle,
Flooding the breach with fearlessness,
Hope is place embracing life’s trouble,
Buoys our peace upon swells of unrest,
Prayer spits out briny sea by the mouthfuls,
Resolute to swim against nature’s rebuttal.

The hidden horizon explodes in sunrise,
Sparkling whitecaps bursting with the Daystar,
Pulling at waves towards God’s golden eye,
Hope’s fulgent path gleams atop this soaking graveyard,
Towing me through this heaving and undulant spar.

Hope reaps new life by each given moment,
Satiating the promise sufficient for souls,
Without counting the cost or love that is spent,
Gulping forgiveness to swim in Christ’s watering hole.

Free will is given to swim through the suffering,
A gift to react to the joy that was stole,
By drowning in bitterness or oblation’s sweet offering.

Within that place see the path to where new life awaits,
That embraces the swim above fear’s pulling weight.

Keep on swimming… keep on swimming…

by Chris Clody

A Blind Man’s Epiphany

Outside the wilderness waits,
Fully aware of my refusals,
My name is called from the Gate,
Laden by comforts and pockets full,
A dead man dragging Mercy’s weight,
Condemned by selfishness to drag and pull,
Gluttony complains yet I’m already full.

Disconnected with my identity,
A lie living within a believable lie,
Tumbling within waves of work’s fragility,
Constantly running but unable to fly,
Crashing just to burn glimmers an epiphany,
In your Light, Lord, now shines my destiny.

In the quickening the visible unchanged,
The lie flees naked, ashamed, and fully revealed,
My heart given room for the joy exchanged,
Before my Aha every moment spun on a wheel,
As grace gathered my broken pieces to rearrange,
I’m flooded by intimacy I once thought distant or strange.

A grateful sting of regret passed through as quickly,
Repentant and contrite words gushed up and out,
Quivering legs gave way and crumbling to my knees,
Forgive my blindness Lord!” My ultimatum without any doubt,
I will follow you in Truth and Spirit!” feeling set free,
Fearless to add, “Whatever the cost, wherever you send me.”

by Chris Clody ~ 3/2/2021

Where She Waits…

Although we contain God’s Image,
We cannot possess eternity.
Shown only in humility,
Given more so in gratitude.
To the prayerful seeking,
Venturing into inner stillness,
She waits listening,
Generously breastfeeding,
Filling hungry souls,
In sufficiency,
Her Wisdom,
our cheeks,
Until satisfied.
Nurtured in bliss
Nuzzelled within Her.
She is my most intimate,
My Omnicient Identity,
My untrammeled beatification,
All-Knowing witness,
Ever-Searching every thought,
All my worthy desires and inspirations.
She is my Unblemished Ego,
My soul and guardian.
Whispering encouragement
Always drawing me closer,
seeking the sacred in another.
Forcing my knowing to behold in others,
What can only be contained; never possessed.
She is the wild purity of my God,
An impervious compass,
pointing Heavenward,
Waiting patiently for my fiat.
When I find the frayed threads of my ends,
It is then I hear Her invitation,
Beckoning me home,
Into the safe harbor of warm Hope.
My Impenetrable high tower,
of ultimate rescue,
And it is here,
In Her Virgin Womb,
Where I can be,
Truly be…
Still and

Chris Clody

From and into clay

So fragile this clay pot,
of our humanity,
chosen to carry,
this gospel’s charity.

Unworthy to possess,
My Lord’s humility,
yet commanded onward,
despite hostility.

It stills me to ponder,
this mission’s clarity,
until faith lets me see,
needful austerity.

Until faith is tested,
we’re walking aimlessly,
squandering God’s love,
outside intimacy.

Born in separation,
and condemned already,
yet grateful that my heart,
craves Jesus recklessly.

Where else can I go?
Where lead with empathy?
Because in learning self,
Shines His Identity.

Lest we’re not created,
Doubt devours certainty,
consumed in wondering,
purpose… incessantly.

Therefore, be of good cheer,
find rest in reality,
know we were made to love,
despite clay’s fragility.

Shine on!
Chris Clody

The Image and the Journey

Imbued long before an infant’s first blink,
Goodness unveils in soft skin and wide eyes,
A blank scroll awaits words pressed into ink,
Entering endless promise and blue skies,
Attuned to a mother’s voice, joy, and surprise.

Irresistible as new fallen snow,
Silence blanketing sounds into stillness,
The story begins with a name bestowed,
That captures both moment and God’s Goodness,
Joyful first words inscribed in sheer ebullience.

Each breath, each season, keeps time and makes way,
Nudging life’s shadow round God’s sundial,
Darkening pages fill with progress and play,
A tale encounters flashes of smiles,
even when tears rain every once in a while,

Although season pass, they yearn in patience,
Until ready to weather replacement,
So too, the Goodness dwelling in nascence,
Slowly withdraws from sight in self-effacement.

A new chapter begins with a slow shift,
Supplanting the age of innocence,
Free will is given a choice to resist,
Walling Goodness within man’s inheritance,
Stone placed upon stone by our concupiscence.

But the first stone was placed by God not man,
Both cornerstone and Image wait within,
Since man cannot fathom what God has planned,
Even if the gates of hell were built-in,
The Image could flee if man repented his sin.

Now well aware of this fork in the road,
Ev’ry second of contemplation slowed,
Knowing the power, the cornerstone holds,
Few men chose rightly and forsaken their souls.

Many have chosen the road that is broad,
Hiding His Image within self-made man,
Sharing their pride for the sake of applause,
Rejecting God’s vision for their lifespan,
Unable to enter the Kingdom at hand.

Despite God’s rejection, He perseveres,
Expressly those in most need of Mercy,
His Spirit walks beside this mutineer,
Pursuing the blind refusing to see,
Resurrection is a possibility.

For the few that choose the road less travelled,
Accepting the cross that was given them,
Whose cornerstone wrecked their inner castle,
Abiding in Christ, enduring mayhem,
A crown awaits those who fail to succumb.

Joyful are those whose faith survive this fire,
Especially the courageous martyrs,
Grateful in prayer before they expire,
Becoming blood for soil; a gift of myrrh.

For those who forsake Satan’s temptations,
Who see light within in a foe’s castle,
The Kingdom welcomes this child’s devotion.

Our faith dares to seek God through His Image,
To heed this command is not for the timid.

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”(Matthew 22:37-40 NIV)

by Chris Clody

The Hypocrite’s Sonnet

Beginning, after the innocence,
Sight amidst true light evanesces,
Inheriting snow felled by willfulness,
Wooed through kisses of melting excesses.

Each kiss a lie yet imperceptible,
Beguiled by the roamer, the lion,
Presenting judgment irresistible,
Drying the limbs of engrafted scions.

But fierce is the mercy of His design!
He is the Supreme Ambush Predator!
Awakening the conscious, free will dare dines,
To eat the Son’s body as an inheritor.

Dry limbs grow green through what Christ accomplished,
Our True Lion now roars, “IT IS FINISHED!”

by Chris Clody

Black was the dawn

Black was the dawn,
of our betrayal,
children banished,
Cain kills Able.
Sin’s dark legacy,
grows and continues…
wars lay wastw hope,
cutting bone from sinews.
Hardened hearts nurture,
endless pride and lust,
wrath opens the earth,
swallowing gold’s distrust.
Tablets lay shattered,
strewn upon the ground,
soon prophets foresee,
crucifixions’s crown.

Black was the dawn,
betrayed and kissed,
flesh striped by scourging,
lacerated by spit.
A lamb finds slaughter,
awaiting a cross,
love refines sacrifice,
from our dross.
Blinded by bloodthirst,
to Heaven’s facade,
His head falling slump,
their crooked smiles nod.
“And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how He died, he said,
Surely this was the Son of God.” (Mark 15:39)

by Chris Clody

Profound Love

To know love,
is to be known,
beyond possessions,
reason dare owns.

Envy of angels,
Christ’s joy compels,
victim hearts splayed,
for His Spirit to dwell.

Proceeding endlessly,
‘tween Father and Son,
love manifests Divinity,
stumbling hearts now run.

Blessed Comforter,
Spouse to Our Mother,
Conceive in us,
the will of Our Father.

without room to run,
crumbling in gratitude,
At the depth mercy plumbed,
By the Splendid Deed He’s done,
Knowing Grace and Truth begun,
Offering victory now won.

by Chris Clody

The Light of Truth

Truth refracts into Light,
A pure glint born from His eternal star,
Awakening the slumbering,
Piercing horizons from afar.

Each day is reborn anew,
Discerning shadow remnants of the night,
Rising dawn unviels in splendor,
Everything hidden in plain sight.

Drawn in by awe and wonder,
Perplexed. Squinting away slog of night,
The mind races to catch what the heart beholds,
Captured by His gaze of liberating light.

Majestic dawn pulls the curious,
Warming face-to-face shining bright,
As morning grows more vibrant,
Clouds blush red, to purple, then snow-white.

Humanity is but a prism,
Fracturing glimmers into colors of Truth,
Only humility gathers this spectrum’s bouquet,
Sharing its flowers in childlike youth.

Such is the charity of God,
Such is the Light of Truth.

by Chris Clody