Tuesday, February 21, 2012

In Conversation - Jesus and I


“Come closer, draw nearer, my sister my bride,
In Holy Communion cleave to me a while,
Yielding in perfect submission to Me,
Consumed and assumed in divine mystery.”

 “Unrivaled the Gift of Yourself to me  Lord,
Our hearts beat as one now in perfect accord,
You ravish and lavish my soul with rich grace,
I in return offer worshipful praise.”

“A most willing Captive of Love in your soul,
I long for the love of hearts tepid and cold,
Those who respond to my love are too few,
Unequalled my joy  for this time spent with you.”

“Too brief is Your visit, too soon we must part,
These wonderful moments will live in my heart,
I’ll savor the Gift of Yourself to me, Lord,
And long for tomorrow till we meet again.”

                                                                Myra D’Souza / 21 February 2012

(This one is inspired by a priest who said sternly to me, "Come closer," when I stood a little at a distance to receive Jesus in Holy Communion.) 


Tuesday, February 14, 2012

AWAKE MY SOUL


Awake my soul!
Here comes Your God,
He rides the dawn,
His chariot swifter than the wind,
Scatters the clouds.
He is magnificent,
Brighter than the noon day sun,
He sets the sky ablaze,
With the fire of His love,
Skirting the horizon,
And flaming it from red to gold.
His beauty dims the stars,
And those that tarry
Twinkle shyly pausing for a while,
To catch a lingering glimpse,
Of the God of all creation.
Awake my soul!

Myra D'Souza / 14th February 2012

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

THE BRIDE - DESIREE



Standing on the threshold of today,
She casts a smiling glance
At yesterday.
Brimming with expectant joy,
She pauses just a while,
Before she steps into
The promise of tomorrow.

Dark and night are left behind,
The play of light upon her face
Stir memories to life,
And once again are seen,
Her mother’s smile, Her mother’s eyes,
Her mother’s impish sense of fun,
Provoking much delight.

Streams of blessings overflow,
Directed by her mother’s hand,
Now clasped in Christ’s,
They pour from Him through her,
To this her first born child,,
Who scintillates in creamy lace,
And satin soft and white.


 Myra D'Souza / 9th February 2012

Search This Blog

Followers