Ascension, No. 1
by Peter Menkin


There is a church service of prayer--
sing.
Evening Prayer that festival day;
we came as pilgrims in an expectation
of a divine celebration. Grace.

Enter into the liturgy. Celebrate God.
This dialogue in prayer and word.
Song.


Oh, that he did rise--it was a hymn.
When the Lord rose, He Ascended.
Imagination, I was.

Inspiration.
As melodious beautiful voices,
a man ascending in this beauty.
Of the beauty.

Making the beauty, bringing with Him
the perfected human nature of this world.
This is celebration.
Divine.


God's gift.
Man as a being of humanity.
God's gift of celebration.
Humanity.

Man and the divine.
Mystery.
This is the Christ.

Photograph by Rick White (Bird of Paradise, Wanshishan Botanical Gardens, Xiamen, Fujian China). Rick is 76 years old, has 9 children, 20 grandchildren and lives in Mill Valley, California USA.

Ascension, No. 2
by Peter Menkin

I have wondered
about the Ascension
weeks after hearing
the singing in the Cathedral
rising to the sacred.

I went that unusual day,
we walked the Labrynth first.

Perhaps I need more time
on my knees.
Is it real?

Is it Easter or the Holy Spirit?

There is a kind of torture
In the mystery of it. Christ.
Worship.

Why do they make the pews
so difficult, like torture
to kneel in –
at the Cathedral
kneeling boxes
near where the reader reads
the Gospel?

He ascended, in beauty.

This mystery continues,
The rising to heaven, the manifestation.

I have been here before.
Ecstacy. Religious.

There were hours
last year
when I looked up
from my knees in prayer
and angels came;
or were they women
of faith, men of belief?
They were angels.

I think Mary came,
one night.
Or was it an Anglican Nun in prayer
whom I have not met;
her prayer visited me.
Maybe it was my friend
at Church.

Was it Spirit or man?
Questions.

These poems, written at different times, reflect on a trip to Grace Cathedral with a friend in the year 2000. No. 1 was written in 2008, No. 2 was written in 2000 and revised in 2008.

Poem about the illuminating reflection of Moonlight...

A poem comes along, it is written, and layed aside. My poem about the moon is such a poem. Can the reflected light of the moon represent or even be the illuminated light of Christ? I found it so one evening. This poem was written in 2000, then revised in 2004, now posted here on my blog. I grant it was written in September of that year 2000. Nonetheless, as a statement on moon gazing it is good for the Winter, 2007.

By the way, here where I live North of San Francisco across the Golden Gate Bridge the weather is cold. There was ice on the car window this morning as I went out to use the car to get to Church. We've been having some trouble with the heat at Church, but all is better now so the Church is warm. For a while there it was cold. In fact, at our Wednesday Communion we had to go into the library where there is electric heat because the Church itself was so cold. There are not a lot of us who attend Wednesday morning.

Suggested reading: "Two Worlds Are Ours: An Introduction to Christian Mysticism" by John Macquarrie. I am reading this currently. Another suggestion, but more a devotional book from 40 years ago and only available used: "An Anthology of Christian Devotion: Holy Communion" compiled by Massey H. Shepherd, Jr. Anglicans will like these titles.

The Moon's Reflection

by Peter Menkin

The moon's reflection

in dark sky, black

brings light. Silver

cast wrought wonder

as we man/woman reach

to see, our gaze upward

basking in celestial promise.

Come divine call, everlasting

light bringing good

that is luminescence.

Awaken us. We must receive

your beauty that gives.

Everlasting promise offered.

For your information, the flowers used to illustrate the posts on this blog were taken in Washington State by my brother Michael Menkin of Bellevue, Washington. Some were taken on the Microsoft Campus when he worked there. He used a digital camera for all.

News of being published: "Westward Quarterly," "Poet's Art," "Sacred Journey," "Shepherd," and "Ceremony" have or will publish poems they've selected. I am pleased to be published.