Christmas Called Me In

The celebration of Christmas is for me the celebration of humility.
It is a celebration of Divinity bowing low to touch us, to kiss us, to truly be with us, and ultimately to *Be* us so that we may understand the true nature of our being.
The realization of our place in Divinity does not lead us into a lofty, majestic state, but instead circles us back to humility; to humus, to the extraordinary blessing and sacredness of our earthly lives and the full scope of our blissful, excruciating humanity.
Christmas called the Holy One in to fully participate in Earth’s Mysteries, and Christmas calls us in to fully participate in the Divinity which is our Origin, our Home, our Very Substance.

Christmas called me in
To the heart’s quieter place
Away from all work and worry
And the intrusion of outer images

Christmas called me in
To that space where I am free
From the illusion of entitlement
And the laughable notion of intellectual property

Christmas called me in
To the Realm of the Infant
Into helplessness and crying
And the universal truth of vulnerability

Christmas called me in
To the Hope already born
To the ending written
Long before the prologue wet the page

Christmas called me in
To Love Uncontainable
And the sustainable peace
Of Its full foregone
And future surrender

Christmas called me in
To the tender seeing of the Midnight Clear
And the gentle hearing of the Silent Night
Senses bestowed upon the lovelorn and senseless

Christmas called me in
To the cradle of the defenseless
The Light of the World shining
On, In, and Through
Eternity, You, and Me.

May Each of You become ever more intimate with the Wonder making Its Home within You.
Merry Christmas and Luminous, Lyrical Blessings to All.
~Cheryl Anne

Loved By Light

Come, O Babe
of Winter’s Waiting,
Share with Us
Your Mother’s Breast.
Every doubt
and fear, abating,
swaddled in Love’s
Perfect Rest.

You, Who watch
Us strain toward
healing; peering
through Eternal Eyes.
Bells announcing Hope
are pealing, Angels
sing from sequined skies.

Come, O Babe
of Nature’s sleeping.
Life stirs ‘neath
the cold, hard ground.
The Stealthy Spirit
in Us creeping,
toward warm
Summerlands We’re bound.

You, Who hear Us
in Our sighing,
weary with the
cares of Earth.
All are babes
of Winter’s Dying;
Loved by Light
to sweet New Birth.

~Cheryl Anne
a little song for Christmas Eve

Sunday of Love

Deep beneath the surface
Of the cold, hard ground
I feel the stirring
Of the Sweetest Sound
Rises up through the trees
Calls the birds all around
‘Tis the Sunday, the Sunday of Love!

In the sanctuary
If they forget Her Name
Or strike Her image
She’s there just the same
In the peace lilies
And the candle’s bright flame
‘Tis the Sunday, the Sunday of Love!

‘Neath my own life’s surface
Stirs Her “Let it be”
Magnificat singing
That I might agree
Rising up through my soul
Justice sounds Her decree
‘Tis the Sunday, the Sunday of Love!

~Cheryl Anne
Advent IV

Trust The Light

What else can I do
but trust the Light
in the midst of
the longest, darkest night?

What else can I do
but rest in Love
as my dreams seek their end
in Realms Above?

What else can I do
but nurture Hope
though despair may seem
to increase its scope?

What else can I do
but breathe and pray
till the dawn of
the longest, brightest day?

~Cheryl Anne
image: Susan Seddon Boulet

Midwinter Hush

Sun of the Seasons
Greater Light
Do not hurry
Do not rush to show
For I am happy here
In the dark midwinter hush
Enfolded in the comfort of
The Lady’s blue-black
Star-speckled cloak

Oh, to still the wheel
A wondrous while
At this calm and splendid spoke

Son of the Highest
Light of the World
Do not hurry
Do not rush to grow
For I am happy
With You in the manger
Far from all Your destined danger
Clutched now safely
To Your Mother’s Breast

Oh, to stay right here
A wondrous while
In this quiet, starry rest.

~Cheryl Anne
Eve of the Winter Solstice

Gift Enough

I want to see
the Greater Luminosity
hidden deep within
the Season’s light.

I want to hear
the Deeper Song
at the center of each carol.

I want to feel
the Higher Truth
that births every tradition.

I want the scent
of my Eternal Home to fill my soul
and pulse in the cold ground beneath my feet.

I want the taste
of winter’s barren wealth reminding me
that green is an inevitable luxury,

and that every moment of Love
is gift enough.

~Cheryl Anne