Advent I, 2021

Advent I, 2021 There is a momentbetween the strike, the flash,the wick, and the flameand that moment is a movement toward,a drawing near enough to singe into beingso that others might see, might come to know. The candle does notlight herself in the crisp-edged quiet;Someone must tell the story that flares brightly. Kimberly M. King

Wash Over

Wash Over Sound wash over me; noteswash over me; hold mein your sway, your soothing, your‘breathe with me, be at ease here, at ease here…’Enfold me, light withinthe notes, the sound,bathing me, taking in my tears,giving them voice, a brilliant transparencyadding story to the stained glass anda hovering in the roof peak whisper of heartthat is…

Because it is Pleasing to my Soul (or Breaking out the Big Mixer)

When I was a child, I associated my father with the making of certain specific foods.  He would produce occasional batches of what we called “New Orleans square doughnuts” throughout the year and do the cranking on homemade ice cream in summer.  Above all, though, bread-making was a favourite.  Both parents made bread, and we…

In the Kitchen Chapel

In the Kitchen Chapel I stood in the middle of a kitchen filledwith rhythms and rites and texturesthat soothe like prayer does.Rising like incense from a thurible panfull of chilis and smoked paprika,onions and garlic and grace and a couple of shallots.A small dice with a sharp knife, a blessing sought,a scrape toward a surface…

Nearer My God

Nearer my God I have been knownto pray before flying a kite—letting my words settle onto thatwhich soon will know the airborne physicsof current, of loft, and find itselfnearer my God to thee,rising, rising, risingand once again returning,having scattered the seeds of my syllablesand ridden the laughter of wind. Kimberly M. King, rscj