For the Month of Holy Souls

Taken October 7, 2011, Feast of the Holy Rosary,
and my husband and my anniversary. Colors at Kline Creek Farm.
Photo by Marianna Bartholomew

Transitions
By Marianna Bartholomew

such a mystical fascination
to watch the dropping leaves
the transition from
green and growing life
to blazing fragility

as each leaf
reaches its climax of beauty
at the threshold of death

then falling
nestles peacefully
with its fellows

glowing still
as with inner fire

seems to promise
a like transition
for us all

the end should come softly
but with a blaze of glory...

I wrote this poem some years ago and imagine it describes that very last moment in life, when the suffering of death has passed its climax and we're in our last moment, escaping the bonds of earth for eternity with God...Eternal rest grant unto our loved ones, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them…


"I believe that I shall see the good things of the Lord, in the land of the living." Psalm 27


"A great happiness is granted to the Holy Souls that grows as they draw nearer God. For every glimpse which can be had of God exceeds any pain or joy a man can feel. The Holy Souls clearly see God to be on fire with extreme love for them. Strongly and unceasingly this love draws the soul with that uniting look, as if it had nothing else to do than this." Saint Catherine of Genoa

Season's End

"Hanging the Laundry Out to Dry" by Berthe Morisot
1875
National Gallery of Art. 
This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired. 
Courtesy of Wikipedia

Season's End

By Marianna Bartholomew

It's sweater weather 
says the voice on the radio 

and stepping outside

is like walking off a cliff into fall.

The air snaps

like freshly-hung laundry.

You see a cardinal, a female.

I pinch shriveled blooms from the rosebush 

and scatter petals like confetti.

The grass is still green

but looks uncombed.

The garden crunches underfoot

like stale toast.

I pull my jacket tighter

over skin still peeling from our day at the dunes.

Was it just last week?

The waves were like hedges

rolling and green.

We vaulted over them for hours

then rode them to shore.

There were clouds then, too

but harmless puffs
like lamb's wool.

The clouds today are flannel.




Thought I'd share this poem I wrote as a newly-wed, in my 20's...Just for the love of words!