A phrase so often used, I stopped asking what it means.
Before you read it,
what would you have guessed?
It’s hard to hear something old as if it’s new,
But you have heard it
Blessed are the poor, the mourners,
and the meek,
Poor in spirit, but how can this be?
Capable of receiving something.
A willingness not to know
For those who mourn,
Somehow this is the holy fountain.
What’s on the other side of mourning?
For me, it’s always grace.
Just enough letting go to come away –
From that sticky, intractable place.
I know you’ve mourned more than people –
We can lose our grip
On all sorts of things,
Blessed are those who are hungry and thirsty for what is right.
The right way, the right thing.
To hunger and thirst,
A human body
Never drinks enough to again never drink.
So goes the soul.
Never done with it’s searching.
Or it too will die.
Blessed are the merciful, for that comes back around.
You start right here at home.
Then your neighbor,
And that neighbor down the street.
It gets tricky eventually.
You can’t fake it.
So, you come back home, again.
The next day it’s easier.
You remember now how it feels.
And what of those with pure hearts?
I don’t hear this Jesus saying “good” hearts here,
Although, where I come from,
We have corrupted the word –
Like the surface of a lake, without a ripple.
The sky’s reflection undisturbed.
A heart without disturbance
Above or below,
Can gaze upon itself, and see
What then is honest here in my heart?
A cascade, like water,
Over and over it turns.
This world is hard, and nothing bright is seen
through the lens of more light.
We need shadow.
There’s shadow in my heart.
Living there alongside the light.
I know I can’t see God if I turn that into a fight.
But when the waters calm,
And everything undisturbed is seen,
Maybe that feeling –
Like coming home,
Is itself a way of seeing
Blessed are the makers and maintainers of peace,
What did I do a moment ago inside my own heart?
Seven devils were cast out of Mary Magdalene.
A holy number of completion.
the accusations from within must have stopped.
“You should not feel this way,
don’t think any of those thoughts”.
Phrases no longer spoken by the woman called Magdalene,
about what’s in her heart.
Woman, where are your accusers? Has no man condemned you?
The Kingdom of God is like this.
Blessed are those persecuted for doing what is right.
Every pure heart asks,
“But how will I know what is right?”
Supremely Blessed are you –
When people are cruel,
And unrelenting in their cruelty
On My account.
Don’t be cruel, I hear.
Not to yourself, not to others,
There’s always part of you that can never know
You answer to your own heart.
If you are in Me,
and I am in you,
Your process will involve pruning,
Remember those dirty, despised old prophets?
Not one of them beloved.
But beloved is not the same as blessed.
Shining faces, sure footed.
Do the prophets act like they had regrets?
When I sit and I listen
to Jesus words,
From this famous sermon on the mount,
Although he never said it
I hear the question,
Can we learn to live in harmony,
Inside one human heart?