Traditional Catholic Devotions February is traditionally the Month of the Blessed Trinity,with the Holy Family being celebrated together with the Holy Name of Jesus in January. The Sign of the Cross In the name of the Fatherand of the Sonand of the Holy Ghost. (50 Days. 100 Days if made with Holy WaterBlessed Pope Pius […]
Traditional February Devotion – The Most Holy and Blessed Trinity — AnaStpaul
Do you have faith in a virus, or do you have faith in God? Do you have faith in fear, false evidence appearing real, or faith in Jesus? Do you have faith in the enemy of our souls or the Holy Spirit of God our Father and his Christ? When we stand on the Truth […]
What Do You Have Faith In? — New Heaven on Earth!
“For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.” Matthew 13:12
His wish was for eternity, flesh
of the sun to mask his corruption; yet
he got his wish the instant Carter’s
torch shone through that chiseled hole: An afterlife
lived only through posterity, outshining
his ignominious end, all
made possible by legions of lackeys who worked
and then died.
Fast forward the centuries
and see little has changed, though
the flesh of the gods
is in bars, hidden in vaults underground, never
seen— like the hopes and dreams of peace,
these rigged scales of elusive justice. We are
left to scrap and save what we can
in a manufactured, finite
world, this theatre underfoot
none like us shall inherit. There is, after all,
only one sun in the sky
and Osiris lies in pieces, unable
to be mended again
© copyright Davidi F. Barker 2012
Bede
It wasn’t at Jarrow where I sensed you
but on Bamburgh’s raging shore,
among the seaweed and razor shells
on gull peppered sands,
its castle brooding behind me
like a huge chiseled tomb.
North waves were scrambling,
spilling memories of guttural voices
disguised in flushing sound;
cries of songs, harps and old tales lost,
fragments I could almost hear
when I turned my head into the wind.
And who was the black figure
bent against the breeze,
absorbing sharp light
on that blinding beach?
I struggled through the dunes,
the little islands of sparse grass
and pygmy flowers —
but you were gone,
extant only in memory,
my boundless imagination,
and in your books
which carry me through centuries
on a primal wave,
each time I read your words
Poem and image © copyright df barker 2012
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