A haiku written for Good Friday

O Forsaken One,
You know the depths of sorrow.
We sit with you now.

I see Good Friday pain, death, and sorrow mirrored everywhere... I saw this stump on a walk this week and the image caught me with its starkness. What have you seen that feels forsaken? Christ, the Incarnate One, is here in the world with us, in places of pain and woundedness. 
​
The invitation today is to witness it and sit with it.

Look up
Look around
Take out your earbuds
Put away your phone.

Let the ordinary
Beauty of this moment
You are in
Bring you pause.

This is holy ground
The Divine shimmering
Below the surface
Waiting to be seen.

​- Wendy Janzen

​Today I was
stopped
in my tracks
by the sweet
earthy smell
of rotting leaves.
Heaven on earth!
A tree's offering
to the soil.
This scent tells
the curious truth:
death can be achingly,
exquisitely,
lovely.
Death is not
a final ending,
it is a transformation,
a continuum,
an outpouring
of love.
- Wendy Janzen

​Thoughts for heading into municipal elections.

How do we measure progress?
We’ve gone off track,
lost our way following
stats for economic growth,
quarterly profits,
housing starts,
and GDP.
Why not measure
a city’s success through counting
how many species of insects we have,
how many people are not hungry,
how many different birds children can name,
how many stars can be seen at night,
how many green spaces there are,
how easy public transit is to access,
and how healthy the waterways are…
Let’s exchange our lawn mowers
for native plant gardens.
Dim our insecurity lights.
Talk to our neigbours.
Park our cars.
Be happy with enough,
and no more.
Draw the circle wide.
Care for the least.
Measure compassion,
not consumption.

​- Wendy Janzen

​Last Sunday I went
to bird church,
or maybe
it was river church.
Either way,
I was greeted by gulls,
mallards, heron,
cedar wax wings,
and approached
by Mystery.

There were flowers
offering praise and beauty
in purples and gold.
The sky opened
space for us,
the constant flow
of the river whispered
ageless truths.

I wandered prayerfully
then returned and waited,
wondering who would
offer the benediction.
I suspected it might be gull,
perched proudly
on a rock in the
center of the river.

But, no.
Soundlessly,
a single yellow
leaf spun down
from above,
swirling to a
resting place
in front of my feet:
Go in peace.

​- Wendy Janzen

To breathe the fresh morning air,
To observe the variety of tracks in the snow,
To greet the crow flying overhead,
To hear the joyful chirping of birds,
To admire the silhouette of an old tree
in front of the rising sun,
To feel the bright, warm sun on my cold skin:
This is to be alive
and to remember 
I am not alone. 

- Wendy Janzen

Sometimes grandeur is great - 
mountains and sunsets
and oceans and such... 
But sometimes 
all I need is simplicity -
a wildflower,
a birdsong,
a bit of blue sky,
my feet connected to 
the good earth,
the colour green,
not much to do,
someone to sit with,
a cup of coffee,
a prayer on the breeze - 
simple sabbath gifts
to fill my soul and
remind me that 
ordinary, everyday 
moments are 
holy too.  

​- Wendy Janzen

Sinking...

I dive beneath dark water,
immersed and held 
briefly in
another world.
Surfacing, 
I breathe deeply.

Floating 
face to the sky,
with each exhale
I sink slightly.
I align my body to the 
sinking sun in the
hazy sky;
a brilliant orange path
glistens across the water, 
reflects fires burning
in the northwest,
points right to my feet.

My heart sinks with 
the knowledge
we are all sinking,
burning, melting
choking.

God, save us from
ourselves.
Have mercy on us.
Have mercy on the Earth,
on the trees, sky, glaciers, 
communities, and creatures…
Save us from this
path of self destruction.
Save us from sinking
into oblivion.

You are our bright light,
fresh air,
quenching rain,
enduring solace,
solid ground,
our hope beyond hope.

- Wendy Janzen

Sometimes I see the world in poetry...
words shimmering like light
just behind or within
everything I see.
But neither word
nor image do justice
to the beauty, the wonder,
the deeper meaning.
​
To simply witness
is enough.
To feel in my bones
something more
is going on.
To trust this
sacred moment
and say
thank you.
​
- Wendy Janzen