My Metamorphosis

Photo: allisonjbratt.com

METAMORPHOSIS

Once I was a caterpillar, dwelling upon the earth,

Crawling along day by day, adept at feigning mirth.

I only knew the earthy life, I thought that that was it;

I took what terra firma gave, the pleasures and the grit.

There was no beauty in me.  No one ever looked here twice,

Few cared if I were evil, no one knew if I were nice.

I was only concerned with myself, what the earth could give,

Yet, inside I was sensing a far better way to live.

Instinct led me to spin a thread and weave a neat cocoon;

I became a living mummy, wrapped tight within my tomb.

What was happening to me?  I tried to kick and shout,

“Help me!  Open up this thing!  I want to get right out!”

No one heard and I was powerless, so I went to sleep,

Not knowing what was ahead of me, feeling something deep.

I don’t know how much time went by within my tiny tomb,

But sensed that I was being changed, as one inside a womb.

Finally, instinct worked in me.  There was a sudden urge

To break out of my chrysalis and from the dark emerge.

Somehow, I then received the strength to burst my being free;

Alas, the golden Light broke through and there was a new me!

I took some time to understand, some time to wonder why,

Then I just shook myself a bit and I began to fly!

And `lo, I was so beautiful, and `lo, I saw the sun...

Oh, after living on the earth, soaring was great fun!

A wretched worm was I no more, I knew that that was true,

I was reborn and I became a creation wholly new!

A butterfly!  A butterfly!  I received my wings,

Glorious splendors of the Heavens, all the higher things.

All old things have passed away, they’ll never come again;

I’ve set my mind on things above, on these I will attend.

Now, even when I swoop to earth and walk upon the ground,

I’ll never be a worm again...I’m Butterfly...glory bound!

Praise God for metamorphosis, it’s by His loving grace

That I’m a new creation now, and I shall see His Face.

Maude Carolan

The above poem is one of my sister's favorites. She asked me for a decorative framed copy. It hangs on a wall in her home.

Butterflies...God's Fanciful Creation

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ISABEL VISITS THE BUTTERFLY PAVILION

Westminster, Colorado ~~~August 21, 2007

'Twas a magical land for Isabel, three

a tropical rain-forest, lush and misty

dense with fern, bright hibiscus and leafy trees

lazy old turtles, a muddy swamp, no breeze

Fluttering way up high, coasting low, low, low

thousands of butterflies gave a sky-dance show

They glided and swirled around us everywhere…

above, around us; we had wings in our hair!

Vibrant creations, every colorful hue

flaming red, orange, green and electric blue!

On Isabel, a mariposa alighted

Was she afraid? No. Issy was delighted!

She spied a swallowtail asleep in a tree

Our little girl picked it up, most carefully

then she set the yellow creature free…oh, my!

It flew off happily…fast as it could fly!

Caterpillars, chrysalises, some breaking free…

Winged ones as fanciful as insects can be!

In a special kiosk, a fine artist drew

with bright paint on children, butterfly tattoos

Issy selected a beauty she liked lots—

a splendid specimen with green polka dots!

That evening she told of all the fun she had

and showed her painted tattoo to Mom and Dad

Maude Carolan Pych

Remembering our visit to the Butterfly Pavilion in Westminster, Colorado, with Isabel Pych in 2007.

A Poem About the Mother of Jesus

MARY

She was a real maiden

gracious and virtuous

so she trembled

as any girl might

at an angel’s visit

But she had real faith

in a real God

and she said, “Yes.”

She was a real woman

not blue-gowned in plaster

A poor carpenter’s wife

not an artist’s rendering

gilded and haloed

She bulged big with child

as she rode astride an ass

and during her real travail

brought forth a baby

in a Bethlehem stable

She was a real mother

He was a real son

She nursed him

changed him

bathed and cradled him

as any mother would

She smiled at his first word

saw him take his first step

and when he fell

and scraped his tender knees

she washed away blood

not yet deemed Precious

and soothed him

with soft lullabies

When he was twelve

and they discovered

he was missing

as they traveled home

after the Passover

she was anxious

as any mother would be

and heaved a great sigh

when they found him, safe

in the temple courts

Yes, she was a real mom

and he was a real son

so, it’s not surprising

it was she

who sensed his power

she who encouraged him to act

at the wedding feast

when wine stopped flowing

for she knew

she just knew…

and she was real

at the Crossbeams

Simeon had told her

long, long ago

a sword would pierce her

Though hers be bloodless

it penetrated sharp

and deep, as truly

as the gaping wounds

she now was powerless

to soothe

He looked down

from His agony

into hers—

gave her to mother

his friend

gave his friend

to be her son

It was always about love

She was a real mom

He is the real Savior

Maude Carolan

My Personal Quest for God

SEARCHING FOR THE ONE MY HEART LOVES

“I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares;

I will search for the one my heart loves.” Song of Songs 3:2 (NIV)

When I was a child

I swung on the backyard swing 

stared into cloud shapes

searched for a glimpse of God

lit votives and prayed

at the Shrine of St. Anthony

tallied indulgences

purchased pamphlets

from the rack

in back of church

that seemed to promise answers

I frequented the large-as-life

Stations of the Cross

and knelt in a grotto

before a likeness

of the briefly interred Jesus

visited the Convent of the Missionary Sisters

of the Immaculate Conception

just a few blocks from my home

Considered (like many Catholic girls)

what life as a nun might be

read about Fatima and Lourdes

and lives of saints

studied my Catechism

cherished a glow-in-the-dark Nativity figure

given to students Christmastime

at Confraternity of Christian Doctrine class

attended Sunday Mass

at Saint Bonaventure’s

became a bride of Christ

at First Holy Communion

and a soldier of Christ

at Confirmation

As a teenager

I began to read Dostoyevsky

and awed by his brilliance

assumed my questions

would be answered by him

I grew up, married

became a mother

loved God

in a corner of my heart

and continued to read Dostoyevsky

not yet realizing

another’s experience with God

could not become my own

My confessor, Father Matthew

rightly perceived my need

Go, he told me, for Penance

to a Charismatic prayer gathering

Obediently, I went

uneasy about what I’d find

for I had heard stories…

but to my sweet surprise

before my very eyes

stood ordinary people

lifting their hands

loving God openly, joyfully

living holy lives

I opened God’s Word

and began to know Him

I talked with Him

Listened. Prayed

Soon I invited Him

to become my All in All

the marvelous fulfillment

of my most secret longing

God moved from His quiet corner

to overflow my heart

with limitless Love that is He

and we’ve embarked upon adventures

far, far beyond my imaginings

sometimes across the sea

sometimes without leaving

my chair

The quest has been worthwhile

for I’ve found the One

and only One

The Holy One

The Jesus One

this sated searching heart

forever loves

Maude Carolan

Eight Summertime Haiku

Haiku

Seagull in grey haze

nearly unseen in the sky

soaring in the breeze

Haiku

Ocean Grove morning

A multitude of angels

somersault to shore

Haiku

The beach on Monday

unlike the beach, Saturday--

Few bathers; sublime.

Haiku

My summertime bliss--

A book, a chair by the sea,

the sun shining down.

Haiku

The ship is so huge!

Bobs like a cork in the sea--

like wee Earth in space.

Haiku

The rhythm of waves

breaking on Point Pleasant Beach

is my lullaby

Haiku

Rain falls from the sky

into this mighty ocean--

Water everywhere

Haiku

Greater than oceans

Mightier than crashing waves

is Almighty God