When you were born Big Ben sounded Laudes And cathedrals resounded With choirs of angels. “She’s here!” your daddy chimed in his cell phone. “It’s been long and bloody, but they’re fine, she must have a big headache, poor thing! She’s beautiful! She looks like me…” For my part, I broke out in praise Of God to whom I had been praying For a safe landing for this precious child And for your mommy’s safety! Beautiful, bright, and sensitive, You are a fine jewel in this family’s royal treasure, Sweet Emilia! May you always use your gifts: Music, poetry, your sharp mind And instincts Your love of history, art and cookery Your wit and fun-loving spirit All well-seasoned with loving kindness And generosity For God’s kingdom and true peace here on earth As the bells rang and angels sang at your birth! Copyright © April 2004 Heleni Pedersoli |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
| MY POETRY |
| LADY EMILIA |
| A D D To Gianna |
| Sweet child, You watch clouds passing by, Lambs, tigers, kitty cats, Birds flying in the sky Red ones for grandpa Blue ones for Nana Rainbow doves for peace on earth And no floods! You sing gently to yourself The songs flowing in your head Flowery meadows, gentle breezes Why is this so? What is that? Why do you cry? Why do people have to die? Nobody understands Why numbers don’t make sense… Why do you have to learn That rivers flow, and flowers grow Why grass is green And rocks are sedimentary? When you can just float In your imaginary boat Through golden meadows To the purple sea While holding crystals in your hand Like stars shining brightly. Copyright © November, 2003 Heleni Pedersoli |
| Nights were unbearably long after he left. The hours stretched interminably toward the promise of early dawn. Some of us couldn’t sleep. Not well, or not at all. We were too full of wonder, full of joy, filled with the hope of glory. As for me – I was filled with longing for his return. My only consolation was his mother. My friend, my confidante, my Master at whose feet I could sit – as I had sat at his – and learn to hope, and love, and not lose heart. “One more story!” we would beg, John, especially, although he was changed from the carefree boy to the sober, almost somber man, awed by his new responsibilities. The Mother would gently accede, even though the night grew late, always eager to share the exploits of her now famous son. We’d never tire of listening to the stories – the shepherds, the magi, the star that shone so brightly for days over the place where the baby lay. We’d never talk about the bloody mess of last Passover. To me – those painful days were all but erased by the elation of seeing him Alive again! Oh! The glory! The love! The joy! To know with certainty that we were in the Presence that our eyes had seen, our hands touched, our arms held the God whom we adored. The same Adonai Who’d spoken to Moses in the desert Who sustained us through our struggles, Whose promises were now come true – God with us – in the body of this man. He had told us to stay together and pray. I could see that Peter, and Andrew, and James were doing just that. Peter could not stop reading the scrolls of the prophecies. Everything made sense now. I had to bite my tongue not to remind them We told you so! Their natural male skepticism had been satisfied. An ardent devotion shone now in their eyes; their silence spoke louder than a million words. I would hear Peter weeping sometimes. We all knew of his repentance not so much for being a coward as for unbelieving… |
| MAGDALENE IN THE UPPER ROOM |
|
Rabboni’s death scattered us in more ways than one even as we grieved together. But nothing could have brought us closer than the recognition of his being alive! Resurrected, is the word. We heard it from him so many times, indeed had seen him bring people from death to life yet, we could not believe. Not when we witnessed the suffering, the wounds, the bleeding, the humiliation. After all, he was made of flesh and bones, like us. His blood flowed, as freely and red as our own. Only Mother believed even when she held his lifeless body in her arms and wept for all the pain she saw him suffer: His affliction His moment of doubt His last tortured gasp for air… We laid him quietly in Joseph’s tomb— and her tears were like diamonds falling silently upon the heavy shroud. And then the soldiers rolled in the heavy stone and I lost control. I sobbed and wailed, my hands grabbing at the dust “He’ll never get out of here…Never!” desperately. She held my head in her hands. “We’ll return, tomorrow!” I said. “The stone will be moved, won’t it?” She held me tightly – “Remember what he said. I will not return to this grave. I will wait for him.” I stood frozen in the garden. “Come!” she said, her hand extended. I took it and walked with her Confidently. Copyright © 2004 Heleni Pedersoli Lent 2004 |
 |
| Saint Mary Magdalene, by Perugino c. 1485 Andrew W. Mellon Collection 1937.1.27.a |
| Millennium Lullaby for Baby Jesus in The Joy that Follows, Owings Mills, MD, 2001, p.106. In the morning I shaped green boughs into a wreath nailed to the wall sprinkled with tiny stars to sparkle through the night. Bright bubbles in rainbow colors found their place upon the tree and with lacy garlands like filigree adorned the hall. In the evening I baked cookies, filled a pie, shaped candied fruit in tiny balls while bread was kneaded hard and sweet upon the plank and little eager faces and floury hands helped make the season right. At midnight I placed your tiny body in cold manger bed and listened for the voice of angels singing Gloria. Yet, all I could hear was soft cries of babies being born into a new millennium in so many Bethlehems around the world. May all of them have a nativity and infancy and adolescence where hope, and peace, and joy will reign where soldiers sharpened swords and Herod's cruel hands will never deign snuff out the tiny flames. Sleep, little baby, you are one of us We cradle you in fleshy arms, swaddle you with love shower you with gifts wrapped in gold surround you with frankincense and cinnamon and bathe you with myrrh as a reminder -- a shroud will one day your body enfold. Copyright ©2001 HELENI PEDERSOLI |
|
| Edelweiss Remember when you're feeling down that many times our own lives are like this: we have peaks, we have valleys, sunshine, ice and snow, gentle breezes, winds that blow, bright lights, darkness bleak. We often allow ourselves to be led by our heads forgetting we have a heart where all of this is stored remembering that beyond the darkest night shines the sun And even from snow and ice sprouts a flower whose petals reflect the morning light Copyright © 1995 Heleni Pedersoli * * * * * * * ** * ** * * ** * * ** * * TO A WOMAN BEGGING IN A STREET OF SHIRAZ Woman, old woman, shriveled up like a dog’s carcass drying in the sun over rocky bottom of empty riverbed. The street is a river the hot concrete where you sit shriveled up, knees drawn, perpetually giving birth under the blackness of your veils. The street is dry like the river great clouds of dust blowing in rivulets of hot acid air, tumbleweeds rolling along relentlessly forever while you sit and watch with your great eye the nothingness around you. And I who pass by, freer than the splotches of color on the wall behind you, I place this silver coin marked with the sign of our degradation upon your shriveled hand. Accept it, and bless me with your toothless grin and your gleaming eye. You know I understand. Copyright © 1978 Heleni Pedersoli |
 |
| Assisi Coming from the Umbrian sunshine into the tiny Chapel Where the Beloved’s embrace enraptured your soul, Alone, in awe and silence, I too felt His presence As you must have also that brightest moment. Outside a bird warbled his lovely song Praise to the sun, the trees, the wind, the rain… I came to follow in your footsteps, Francis, And found the hidden joy that will sustain In me that Hope which through the valleys will remain. © Heleni Pedersoli, sfo October 2006 |
| In the Garden at Priest Field |
Sister Water bubbly, clear and light singing your crystalline gentle song cleansing my heart. Brother Sun warm and bright shining on me warming my heart Brother Wind So cool and gentle playing your chimes stirring my heart To praise my Lord for gift of his garden where I find myself by losing my sight To be guided by your Spirit of light hearing your words of love embracing in perfect peace this new life. October 2007 |
|
|
|
|
|