"Both light and shadow are the dance of Love." -Rumi

virginia

gentle water,
wash over me.
lazy summer skies
and autumnal leaves of parting
mixing together,
making white
and making light
of death. 
clear water,
wash over me.
grey, round rocks
amidst sunshine and green;
sitting together,
forming soft cradles,
and holding this woolf
of Life.
 whispering water,
wash over me.
a saccharine song
breathed from eternal strength,
flooding my senses,
flowing beyond
and washing me clean.
i’m alive. 
Catherine Anne Kilbride
October 25, 2008

When the Apple Trees Meet in Spring

Apple trees' greetings
Fraught with shy bows and shivers
White and pink petals
Float soundlessly
To the ground.

Catherine Anne Kilbride
May 26, 2020

Chickadee Singing

Black and white feathers heave:
Her heart is so small.
Evidence of life.

Catherine Anne Kilbride
November 08, 2020

Paul|Pōru|Ani:

Compassionate heart
Burns like incense and prayers
A modern-day censer
For God's living senses

Flame in the darkness
Your sparks dance towards heaven
They point back to the One
And transform the world.

​Love Loving
In action
In Ani
In Paul.

Catherine Anne Kilbride
May 26, 2020

Upon Waking: Compassion for the Elders

Sometimes, I awaken,
And don't know
If I'm really awake.

Do you ever get that feeling
Of being disoriented
As you trip on the divide 
Between here and there?

I hate it, that feeling
Of disorientation;
It terrifies me,
Reminds me of The Alzheimer's,
And of The Going Mad,
And of how we don't really know what we don't know,
Or where we are,
Or when we are.

Catherine Anne Kilbride
May 25, 2020

Union

The birchbark canoe
Glides soundlessly
over ferric waters,
Parting the surface, 
that rippling blanket,
Between here and there.

Catherine Kilbride
November 15, 2020

Last Rites

There is a crunching sound
Underfoot,
The stark white blanket
Of winter's arrival,
Of summer's succumbing
To Death.
The world's last rites
Announced 
In the hues
Of a baby's baptismal gown.

Catherine Anne Kilbride
May 25, 2020​

The Work of the Soul

Just be (for) awhile, and
Let your soul
Do her loving work
Of enfolding
Your every step,
And thought ,
And feeling.

Rest awhile
In her gentle warmth, 
That immutable reminder of
The eternal (Sun/Son).

She is,
Slow and sure,
Gently surrounding,
Slowly infusing,
All that is broken
With the speed of certain isness;
Painting you,
With long brush strokes,
The colour of Eternity.

Just be (for) awhile, and
Let your soul
Do her grace-filled work,
Enfolding you in love and safety
While you rest quietly within
the heart of God.

Catherine Kilbride
November 9, 2020

Praying in the Garden:
​An Almost-Haiku

Children's red frisbee
Sails soundlessly, like a feather.
Then,
Slaps me in the face.

Catherine Kilbride
May 25, 2020

After You'd Gone

I knew you after you’d gone.
Too late to sit with you
over a donut and tea.
Or next to you
on the chesterfield.
Too late
for this plane
where I dwell;
away from you,
but you with me,
always.
I knew you
only after you’d gone.

You liked to travel
when we wouldn’t have to talk.
The silence then, it was deafening.
Stifling.
Suffocating.
Now, I see that it was overflowing,
that silence,
with love and understanding,
from you.
I saw that
only after you’d gone.

I can still feel your hand,
the bridge that connected us.
Kisses on cheeks,
only kisses on cheeks.
But your hand,
I feel it;
I still feel it
holding my own.

I wish I had been there
more
sandwiches and drives
and watching t.v.
Just sitting there,
on the chesterfield.

It’s those little things,
that end up being
the big things;
and the people we stuff in the background
who end up being
everything.

I’m sorry.
I only knew you once you’d gone.
Today, I’d sit with you
over tea
or donuts
on the chesterfield
all day long.
Lunch would last for hours,
and I’d take you driving,
with fudge
and more fudge
and your mother’s gas tank
to keep us going.
I’d laugh with you
and just sit
sit
sit
until you were gone.

I’d tell you I love you,
And feel the veins in your hand.
And let you squeeze me so hard
it hurt.

Today, I’d know you,
before you’d gone.

Catherine Anne Kilbride
August 31, 2008

Soulmate

Precious little creature
Nestled up beside me
Your fur coat heaves 
Up and down
Up and down
Guided by your beating heart.
Up
And 
Down
Up
And 
Down
Silent as 
The cloistered nuns
Who lived atop the hill
At home.
God's glorious time 
Kept
In that little body
The hair on your head, the sparrow above you
All Beloved 
of Love Loving
Sine
Cosine
Sine
Cosine
Our heartwaves 
Are interwoven
Forever.
Catherine Anne Kilbride
May 25, 2020

A Note to that Golden Cage

Gilded, golden cage,
You dazzle eyes that seek, in      earnest,
Peace for self and others.

​Gaudy, pyrite hutch!
Your phoney gems do steal our focus.
Distractions.
They eclipse the bird inside your margins.
Look! Her tiny wings are bruised and bloodied
From a life inside your machinations.

I will open your flimsy door for her.
Your beauty is mere illusion.
​
Catherine Anne Kilbride
November 08, 2020

the secret life of we

the secret life
of you and me
reminds me of this fuzzy bee
to say
and to not say
all at once
 
the secret life
of you and me
betrays this mediocrity
to man
and to not man
mere circumstance
 
the secret life
of you and me
does lead me to the sacristy
to enjoy
or to discard
of sacraments
 
the secret life
of you and me
exists back to eternity
to touch
and to not touch
oh, perchance…
 
and so, you see
dear myst’ry
the secret life
of you and me
reminds me of this fuzzy be(e)
 
it stings
and feels soft
 
All at once.
 
Catherine Kilbride
October 25, 2008​

Of Birch and Granite

After the first snowfall,
The buds returned
In trusting anticipation:
Foreigners
Who had settled in this
strange land.
Of birch and granite,
Unaware
that they would soon face timelessness
In the tight wraps of winter's icy grip.
Will you return
next year?
Or did your act of faith
Prepare your death knell,
and freeze you
in your chilly grave?

Catherine Kilbride
November 15, 2020