Sometimes We Need a Miracle

Today I have a new poem to share, inspired this week by the news of the many afflictions and deaths in New York and New Jersey, amid this worldwide Covid-19 pandemic...and about the miracles we are praying for and the HOPE we can only find in Jesus...

Painting by Jeremy Winborg
truthbook.com

NEEDING A MIRACLE, LIKE JAIRUS

Another one—

My brother called a few minutes ago

to tell me his friend died

of the Coronavirus

This pandemic is unrelenting

Thousands have died here in New Jersey

as many as in a small country—

Too many deaths

even for the funeral homes

to handle

My prayer list is long

and keeps getting longer

I cross off names

and add some

I’ve been reading about Jairus

the synagogue official

who fell at Jesus’ feet

begging Him to come

heal his dying daughter

so Jesus went

and as they walked

crowds pressed against them

In the midst of the commotion

a woman touched the fringe

of Jesus’ cloak

and He felt power

go out from Him

At that moment she knew

she was healed

The woman told Him

she’d been hemorrhaging

for twelve years

They continued on their way

and someone stopped Jairus

to say his daughter had died

Jesus told him not to fear

but believe

so on they went

When they arrived

there was mournful weeping

and bitter wailing

but Jesus told them

the girl was sleeping

They responded

by laughing in His face

Jesus went inside the house

took the little girl’s hand

in His, and said

 Arise!

At His word

her eyes opened

breath returned to her

and she got up and walked

Now I pause to imagine

if Jesus were here today

in the midst of this virus

how multitudes would

seek Him, how they would

flock around Him

and press against Him

wrenching His cloak

tugging at His arms

pulling Him

this way, that way

beseeching and imploring

Come with me, Jesus…

Oh! come with me, Jesus…

Come with me!…me!…

me!…me!…me!

Oh! Sometimes we desperately

need a miracle

…like Jairus

and always, we definitely need

…Jesus

Maude Carolan Pych

In Memory of Leo F. Carolan

Leo F. Carolan
April 19, 1930 - March 11, 2004


In Memory of Leo F. Carolan
on what would have been his 90th birthday.

THE BREAD MAN

Leo would travel anywhere for good bread

He'd call ahead for four-pound loaves

of Russian rye from Pechter's in Harrison

or drive to Calandra's in Newark

for pannellas, sesame seeded bastones

and golden semolinas

He'd travel to Balthazar's in Englewood

or The Baker's Wife in Tappan, New York

for multi-grains, great marbled masterpieces

or crusty artisan ciabattas

His old Chevy would retain the yeasty aroma for days

He'd share the good bread

with relatives, friends, neighbors, and co-workers

People called him, "The Bread Man"

That was the good bread

Leo also shared the Best Bread

He administered the Best Bread

with well-baked crustiness gleaned

from working twenty-five years

as a probation officer

and the soft interior texture

born of a kneaded spirit

There were those

who tore into it impatiently

and devoured the entire loaf

without condiment, while still warm

Others thoughtfully partook

the nourishment for body and soul

He always left them

with something fresh to chew

and a few seeds for ongoing growth

He always left them

with the lingering fragrance

of the presence of the Lord

Taste and see…

Take and eat…

Maude Carolan

He is Risen. Alleluia!

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

He is Risen...

Alleluia!

Image credit: factsandfaith.com

RISEN

It’s Holy Saturday

Dough is rising

on the kitchen counter

filling me with thoughts

of rising

helium balloons

set free

sunrise

over the Sea of Galilee

waking up

rising

soap bubbles

floating skyward

seagulls soaring

fireworks

booming and bursting

jet planes at take-off

rocket ships

with long trails of fire

zooming to the moon

O, but nothing

nowhere

and no one

has ever done it

or will

…like Jesus

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem is one of 98 poems in my new book about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus. It is depicted below and is titled, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. The book is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For information, go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"
By Maude Carolan Pych

The Tomb is Empty...

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Photo credit: constancedenninger.blogspot.com

HE IS NOT HERE

Israel Pilgrimage--2006

Some believe

the Body of Messiah was placed

in the highly venerated

tomb located in the Church

of the Holy Sepulcher

Some believe

He was buried

in a pastoral place

known as the Garden Tomb

The important thing is—

He died. He rose.

He’ll come again.

The important thing is

as a placard proclaims

at the entrance

to the Garden Tomb:

He is not here—

He is risen from the dead

and the important thing is

our sins are atoned—

We live because He lives

so there’s nothing

left to say, except

Hallelujah!

Praise be to Jesus, Our Risen Savior!

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It's available online at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. For information, go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

"The Pieta"

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Today is Good Friday...

Image credit: excerptsofinri.com

THE PIETA

After the earthquake

the peals of thunder

the flashes of lightning across the sky

After the curious crowds dispersed

Mary sat in ominous dimness

upon a mound of earth

at the base of the Cross

clutching the body

of her Son

She cradled Him

in the hollow of her lap

close to her bosom

as she had

when he was

her baby boy

Mary removed

thorns of mockery

that encircled His forehead

and tossed it to the side

Straining to see in the shadows

she carefully picked

fragments of thorn needles

still stuck in His lifeless flesh

although they couldn’t hurt Him

any longer

With her fingertips

she tenderly closed the lids

over His dark, vacant eyes

and smoothed

the disheveled, matted hair

…then she kissed Him

O, my beautiful Son…

Tears flowed

down her face onto His cheeks

mingling with dried blood

With the edge of her garment

she wiped some blood away

John came

and rested his hand

upon her trembling shoulder

He was now her son

She was now his mother

Mysteries

too deep to comprehend

swirled in her mind

like the flap and flutter

of wings and overshadowing

Son of the Most High

and David’s throne

like pregnant Elizabeth’s joy

when the baby leapt in her womb

and the Baptizer himself, when grown

proclaiming his younger cousin

“The Lamb of God, Who

takes away the sin of the world”

and Simeon’s prophesy

that Jesus would be

a Light of revelation

to the Gentiles and the glory

of the people of Israel

Where is the Light?

Where is the glory?

Where is the throne?

Overwhelmed by sorrow

so intense it stabbed her

deep, deep in her inner parts

Mary cried out in anguish

and rent her robe

Was this what old Simeon meant

long ago in the Temple

when he held Jesus in his arms

and said a sword would pierce

my very soul?

O my Son, my beautiful Son…

I cannot fathom the ways of God, but

I do know this cannot be the end

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is depicted below and is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For information, go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

Behold the Lamb...poetically!
By Maude Carolan Pych

"Sunflowers Along Emmaus Road"

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: commons.wikimedia.org

SUNFLOWERS ALONG EMMAUS ROAD

Israel Pilgrimage—1986

A field of big, bodacious sunflowers

seem to be a great cathedral choir

singing the Hallelujah Chorus

with exultation

while sun-shining millions

of dazzling petal spires upon us

along Emmaus Road

It is fitting

because I am ablaze

with Jesus-joy

to be here

as I think about my newly

Resurrected Lord, vanishing

at the very breaking

of the bread

astonishing the disciples

who sat with Him

at table

Those utterly bewildered disciples

whose hearts thumped

and blazed

with glory fire

as He walked with them

as He explained to them

the Holy Scriptures

2000 years ago

somewhere

along this very road

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem is one of 98 poems included in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For more information go to http://maudecarolanpych.com

It's Passover...

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

A Blessed Passover

To my Jewish & Messianic friends!

Image credit: haggadot.com

EXTRAORDINARY MATZOH

It’s only ordinary unleavened bread

Ordinary matzoh

On an earthen plate

It probably came

From a supermarket shelf

A Manischewitz box

Ordinary matzoh

Blessed for Passover

Oh, but when I take it

And cradle it lovingly

In my hands

Break it and bless it

It is for me

Most Holy Bread

Good Friday Bread

Body of the Lamb that was slain

With my cup of Redemption

Communion Bread

Lechem without hametz

Without yeast of sin

Pierced

Striped

Bruised

Shrouded afikomen

Hidden

Then resurrected

With glory

I partake

Alleluia, alleluia

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Maude Carolan

This poem has been published in William W. Francis’ book, Celebrate the Feasts of The Lord. Crest Books.

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information, go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

"Along Emmaus Road"

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: lds.org

ALONG EMMAUS ROAD

Luke 24 & Isaiah 53 NASB

I’m sitting in the kitchen

with my Bible open

reading about the men

who were walking to Emmaus

the Sunday following the Crucifixion

thinking how bewildered they were

and dismayed that the one

they supposed was their savior was gone—

He died upon that Cross on Friday

leaving their hopes completely dashed

and I’m thinking about Jesus

joining them on their journey

as a complete stranger

bringing the hope of the Gospel

as He explained about Himself in the Tanakh

without revealing that they were actually walking

the seven miles to Emmaus

with their newly Resurrected Lord

I flip through the pages

and see Jesus handwritten in the margins

of the Old Testament, over and over

wherever I’ve discovered Him anew

and recall each exciting revelation

and imagine their amazement

as they listened to Jesus

revealing Himself as He spoke

about Moses and the Prophets

particularly when He came to the part

about the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 53

How exciting it had to have been to hear it

from the lips of the Suffering Servant, Himself—

Despised and forsaken

a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief

smitten of God and afflicted

pierced for our transgressions

crushed for our iniquities

by whose scourging we were healed

Who like a lamb was led to the slaughter

Who like a sheep, was silent before its shearers

assigned a grave with wicked men

but was with a rich man in death

He rendered Himself as a guilt offering

and God would prolong His days

Jesus…Jesus…Jesus

I visualize the men

clutching their burning hearts

When they reached their destination

they invited the stranger to stay with them

because the hour was late

and as they gathered around a table

to partake of an evening meal

Jesus lifted a loaf to bless—

Suddenly their eyes beheld

His nail-pierced hands!

and as He broke their humble bread

they recognized Him

In that instant Jesus vanished!

but the words He spoke

along the road that day

were permanently seared

upon their hearts

so they rose from the table

and hurried off that very hour

all the way back to Jerusalem, in the dark

to tell the disciples of all the wonders

that happened that remarkable day

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book (depicted below), "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information, go to http://maudespoems.com.

Behold the Lamb...poetically!

By Maude Carolan Pych

"At the Via Dolorosa"

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Photo credit: pixabay.com

AT THE VIA DOLOROSA

Israel Pilgrimage—2006

Twelve feet below

the hustle and bustle and hawking

the crowds, the spices, the wares

of the present Via Dolorosa

lies an ancient pathway

of trodden stones

Yeshua walked upon

in sandaled feet

on His way to Calvary

2000 years ago

ancient stones

stumbling stones

stones Yeshua, weak and weary

likely fell upon as He carried

the cumbersome crossbeam

along that terrible path

to Crucifixion

I remove a shoe

to feel the coolness

of hallowed ground

against my bare sole

We begin singing

Were You There When They

Crucified My Lord

and tremble

tremble, tremble

at the reading

of the Suffering Servant

in Isaiah 53

Millenniums

seem to disappear

It almost feels

like it’s happening here

now—

There’s something

timeless

about it

isn’t there?

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem is one of 98 included in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

It's Palm Sunday

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: sharefaith.com

BETWEEN THE PALMS AND THE CROSS

It’s Lent—

I’m sitting here meditating

upon that final week

wondering what happened to His followers

after Jesus entered Jerusalem

riding astride a donkey

as people spread their coats before Him

along the dusty road

Wondering about those followers

the ones who cut branches from palm trees

and waved them at Him in homage, proclaiming

Hosanna to the Son of David!

Hosanna in the highest!

After all, He was their humble King

I’m sitting here wondering what happened

between then and days later

when Jesus stood before Pilate

amid a crowd of onlookers

persuasive chief priests and elders

and everyone began shouting

Crucify Him! Crucify Him!

Did they forget the taste of water

that He turned into wine?

Did they forget the healed lepers and the blind?

Did they forget Him preaching

to the multitudes, Blessed be the poor…

and the thousands He fed with a few loaves and fish

Did they forget He healed a pitiful demoniac

and the woman with an issue of blood

Could they have forgotten that he said to the dead girl,

Talitha kum, and she sprang right up and walked

And Lazarus? Could they possibly have forgotten

that Jesus called His friend out of the tomb

and Lazarus emerged, grave clothes coiled

around his body…after three days!

I’m still sitting here wondering about

how quickly they turned

from their hosannas

to calling for His death

Wasn’t there one clear-headed believer

one unable-to-be-swayed witness

one unshakable faithful-unto-death follower

to boldly shout out in protest…

No!

No. There wasn’t

Not even one

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

Behold the Lamb...poetically!

By Maude Carolan Pych