Ten O Antiphons

Dear readers:

I'm so sorry for the long gap in my publication. To put it bluntly, life is much more chaotic than usual at the moment. Stressful and unplanned circumstances have meant we need to sell our home and move with some haste, so this writer's bandwidth has greatly narrowed.

Still, I so appreciate all of you who've committed to reading my scribbles, so below I've posted a few poem-prayers. These verses are written in a form I began using in 2020. A series of forty of them were published in The Christian Century in December of that year. 

The ten below are new ones, previously unpublished, and a few directly address Advent, which is timely!

Blessings to you all, my friends.

1
O Father guide us through the dark, the cold 
 black river of December’s abandonment.
Keep our gazes fixed on rain-gilt asphalt,
 arpeggios of twigs against the sky.
Gulls still soar. Crows carry on each morning,
 scattered like cracked pepper through the clouds.
Balance us like pigeons on our wires.

2
O God of all our journeys and arrivals,
 O God of yesterday, of here and now,
God who calls us homeward, vast Creator,
lead us on the road of adoration.
 King of Angels, born a wanderer,
create us humble citizens of heaven,
 dear Living Word. Walk us into worship.

3
O God, you cherish every woman’s heart.
 Young or old, you’ve fashioned all of us
to know you, whether we are maids or mothers.
 Whatever life you give, whatever calling,
you’ve made our hearts to love you, our Beloved.
 Help us be assured that, by your Spirit,
we are saved and loved eternally.

4
O God born in a manger, King brought low,
 even day is dark until you shine your light.
Our child-hearts need your presence every hour;
 can take no rest until we know you’re near.
Like cattle in the stable we behold you.
 Each one of us a baffled animal 
until you fill our spirits with your grace.

5
O God With Us, Emmanuel, Infant King,
 Your bright arrival breaks on us in glory.
From heaven you descend. For love of us
 you bear the human burden of our death.
The price you pay to save us stops our words.
 In silence teach our hearts to understand.
In silence let us contemplate your mercy.

6
O God of every low grey day in April:
 that shift, that month both cruel and kind,
that door open a crack, so nearly freedom,
 those Lenten weeks with faraway light looming.
Bear us near your warm-as-summer heart
 a little longer, Lord, until we rise,
as tentative as new lambs and as famished.

7
O Rainmaker, O Catcher of the Day
 when it gives up and faints into the night.
Dusk-Sweeper, God who spreads the clouds
 from east to west, grey flannel comforter
to keep the night, though wet, our close companion.
 We raise damp faces up to April’s tears.
Dripping, we thank you – we drink gratitude.

8
O God of all our loved ones’ dying breaths,
 Lord of our grief, Friend to all who mourn,
how tenderly you shepherd us through death.
 Those quiet nighttime hours: we know the end
and minister love to comfort she who leaves.
 The final cup of water. Last embrace.
The final call of the beloved name.

9
O Lord of all our seasons, dark and light,
 Of branches full and leafless, night and day,
lead us hour by hour, through storm and sun,
 that we might learn to trust your every step.
Amid our crumbling plans and dreams derailed,
 show us your loving hand beyond the sky.
Grant us grateful faith in all your ways.

10
O Colour-maker, God who made the eyes,
 readied our broken hearts to be cheered up
by yellow, calmed by green, jazzed on by red,
 help distracted sight to pause, arrested,
by flower, bird’s wing, apple in a bowl.
 May glory in these simple daily visions
sustain sad souls that stumble in the Way.