Call Me Cain

Good Friday. How appropriate?  The following poem was inspired by a Bishop Fulton J. Sheen (Faith,Hope, and Love with Fulton J. Sheen Season 1, Ep 2, Love is Hope).

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Who am I

Who am I?
A descendant,
A wanderer,
Born of pessimism,
From an unfaithful race of Cains.

I am sealed by a mark,
even the Seven Seas cannot wash away.
This incarnate blood of my just brother,
Now becomes my hope.

Hope, not optimism,
Or brokenness from our crushing reality.

Hope is a covenant of Mercy,
An enslavement, a property,
A refuge from the vengeance of men.
Hope, is the burning crimson that stains me,
And warns all who seek wrath,
Belongs to the One who marked me.

What judge?
What authority, principalities, powers
can convict me?
If the One whom I killed,
Is now alive,
then I must be set free!
Has He not been seen walking,
Upon the wings of the morning?
An lo, He has not left me orphaned,
To be convicted by the lords of this age,
For He stands before you now!
Truly Truth sets me free!

Who am I?
I am not my own,
But touched by the very finger,
that etched law into stones,
and love upon my heart.
I am another Cain,
Justly convicted,
and now believe,
I live by the One I slayed.

…but call me Christian.

By Chris Clody
8/23/2019

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House Of God

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Sing to The House of God

Everlasting are You Lord Almighty,
Uncreated and undefined,
Lowly are we Your still waters,
Jesus, Our Savior, turn us into wine.

Father of Forgiveness, Mercy, and Peace,
Giver of faith and Son you sent,
Shining Your Star upon the birth of Truth,
Alighting on lost souls in New Advent.

Good Shepherd, Deliverer, Firstborn Son,
Light of all! Son of the Most High!
Radiate Your radical love through us,
Present us clean before the Father’s Eyes.

Holy Spirit, Breath of The Almighty,
Spirit of the fear of the Lord,
Everlasting Kiss and comfort to our souls,
Unite Our Christ to the Father’s restore.

O Faith! O Hope! O Sweet Charity!
Become our clarion call,
Lift all eyes to your glorious kingdom,
Jesus, you’re our everything! Our all in all!

By Chris Clody
1/16/19

Hawks on the hill

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Patient, are his long shadows,
spreading like fingers,
resisting the sun.
Until,….
the hunt begins.

Blind are his prey.
That scuttle below,
these Hawks on the hill.
Silent dark sentinels,
staring omnisciently,
blotting out the sun.

Yet,
I and a few souls see them,
we watch
and inevitably wait.

Their gaze,
is a searing burn,
their hungry caw,
soon shivers my soul.

The hour comes,
like a thief,
filling blue sky.
with small black crosses,
swirling above…

Their lethargic prey,
amble nose to ground,
gorging full bellies,
distracted and unaware,
to what plummets above.

Talons spread,
barely whistling,
through the cool, rush of wind.
Immediately crushing,
then piercing,
the hunted.

The quick kill,
is painless,
like a hot knife,
through warm butter.

Yet,
I see their precision,
an exquisite scalpel to the tumor,
and watch,
wide-eyed,
their kill.

Looking up at me,
with satisfied gazes,
that scorch my skin.
Contentment proceeds,
with a quiet laugh,
as my soul takes notice.

The Hawk,
arises with severed flesh,
leaving just a scar,
to tighten skin,
to widen pores,
and pull upon senses.

The hunted are left,
miraculously healed,
that is,
until tomorrow…

Dreams begin,
awakening the hunted,
to a newer normal,
a different reality,
a new way to forage.

For tomorrow transforms,
through stretched skin,
making the hunted,
a little less blind,
and a bit less deaf.

Blessed are the hunted.

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By Chris Clody
3/16/18

The First Ecstasy

imagesmarystatueface (1)“Let it be done unto me.” O Mother how your words changed faith to hope. What was it like Mother? To be overshadowed, completely enveloped in the embrace of the Trinity? Reveal to me Mary the warmth and the light that captured you in ecstasy between creature and Creator! Who, but a favored soul, determined before all time, could stand in the rapture of pure love of indescribable joy? To know that your humility would impart innocent flesh to God’s perfect sacrifice requiring perfect love. What was it like to witness the Trinity transfigured about you while infused with the knowledge to hold this moment close to your heart. Still, for those eyes undimmed by doubt, your immaculate heart can be seen like John beholding the Lamb of God for the very first time. Just as it was with Simeon and Anna, the prophetess, who recognized the consolation of Israel when the infant Savior was brought to the temple. Yet it was Simeon who saw your heart, the favored one beating in tandem with the Holy One of Israel. Two hearts, the sacred and the immaculate inexplicably bound, synchronized in love. Foreseeing the very sword that pierced your Holy Son would forever martyr your immaculate one so your thoughts could be revealed to the generations that call you blessed. Hastened by irresistible charity to assist your once-barren cousin at the sixth month of her anointed pregnancy, it was not only Elizabeth that recognized the approach of your favored heart, but her unborn John who leapt at the tandem heartbeats of humility and promise proceeded by the Spirit’s warmth. Just as John the Baptist was pre-elected by the Father to clear a path for His Begotten, Mother, you were deemed ever more so. Simeon and Anna both envisioned the contradiction that you carried, one that would cause the rise and fall of many men. It seemed apropos and justly ironic that your fiat of blind trust to carry this world’s redeemer, for which no hospitality was offered in time of delivery, that you therefore accepted without hesitation in the ark of your favored womb. How you now reveal the wonders of your favor Mother, that transform the Ark of the Covenant with your sacred flesh anointed before time began. How two cherubim surely overlooked your every step preventing any man’s touch to corrupt what God had made holy and perfect. For it was not only your flesh that you imparted to the Begotten in perfect harmony with the Spirit but also your humility that the Father favored you to share.
To have this revealed in words is surely but a shadow… but to live through is pure ecstasy. I can now only surmise the moments of ‘ecstasy’ described in other lives following your God-man’s footsteps are but a tearful glimpse of the moment you and the Trinity joined as One.
Bless you Mother.

His,
Chris

All I Want Is All Of You

Call To Me
(Inspired by Anima Christi and Unknown Author)

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Within all your memories,
I stand behind waiting,
Before all your dreams,
I beckon,
All around you,
My love surrounds,
Everything you need,
I exist within.

Give me your soul,
Let me sanctify you
Take, eat and drink,
Let me save you,
Wash with water from my side,
I will baptize you,
Feast upon my Passion,
I will strengthen you,
Pray dear servant,
I will hear you.
Enter within my wounds,
I will hide you,
From the wicked foe,
I will defend you,
Remember my saints,
Follow me,
In your hour of death,
Call to me!

Forever and ever, Amen.

By Chris Clody
12/14/17

**Note: Inspired by Anima Christi (St. Ignatius of Antioch) and unknown author.

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A Thin Blue Line

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I prayed with a cop today,
A young man named Gabe,
Swollen in his bullet-proof vest,
A holster enclosed on his hip,
Bearing the weight He knows all to well.
I prayed for both our protection,
I prayed for our safe communities,
We held hope in our hands,
We prayed for a greater peace.
Both of us carried weapons,
His, an oath and a Glock 22,
Me, a trust and a rosary,
Him, to serve and protect,
Me, to hope and pray.

Just a thin blue line,
Connected us,
Joined as one bloodline,
Joining hearts in trust,
To God’s beating vine.

Wispy veins of blue,
Networks of armor,
Protecting tissue,
Called by our Framer,
Sticking gum to shoe.

Blue are the days though,
To be strong when life,
Burdened by grief’s blows,
Must prepare to fight,
Despite vertigo.

Imperfect is blue,
Being so human,
Failing as tissue,
Wanting more than planned,
Instead of being glue.
Organs bear coercion,
Squeezing them blue,
Robbing Wrath’s portion.

Imperfect humans,
Rebel and swell with
Overgrown organs,
Swollen in resist,
Forgetting God’s plan.

Nevertheless…

Forgiveness awaits,
Patiently it cures,
A salve for the hate,
Within a savior,
Calming this stalemate,
Restoring grandeur,
Allowing Love’s free state.

Yea.. I prayed with a cop today.

By Chris Clody
11/29/2017

Come and Follow Me

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Come and Follow Me

Let the dead bury their dead,
Under gifts and praises for each other,
Let delusions of grandeur,
Build gods and blessings to one another.

Love prays for your repentance,
Just to let Me meet you at your level,
Truth herds in new family,
Mercy washes saints and quenches rebels.

Those in need of My mercy,
Will carve humility into hearts of greed,
Vanquish darkness with my Light,
So each may see beauty in dying seeds.

‘Come back to Me’ is My song,
That background mantra you hear in your dreams
A song of hope just for you,
A light of faith to see what cannot be seen.

Will you come and follow me,
And let Me hold you once again?
A new Joy I’ll make in you,
Taste forgiveness in my ransom,
For I came just for you,
Come and follow Me,
Let My cross make you free,
Come and follow me.

by Chris Clody
11/12/2017