Frost and Fire: A Lenten Poem


To have the soul of a poet Lord,

To have one that feels to the depths.

The gaping wide hole in my soul Lord

The sadness and longing must be for Thee.


It is the wind that all things are fleeting.

The color that only created eye can see

It burns me to the core

in the comings and goings,

The busyness of the world of men

with its money and music and material.


And yet I know

The desire

to consume, to fill, to buy,

to store up, to hoard, to excite, to distract,

to pleasure, to power, to wealth, to honour.

All these futile attempts

To pour earthly water into an everlasting well.


The well within where I am to find Thee

Where Thou will give me living water to drink.

Where the poetry of Thy religion

Will romanticize my soul


Like a lover lavishes his bride

With a delight, with a purity

With an awe for her beauty

despite her brokenness.


To be looked upon with the look

The look of utter enrapture

Where one swallows, but forgets to breathe

So swept up

A forgetfulness of self.


All the earth a sacramental Lord

A song of utter rhapsody

With its swaying sighs of the seasons

Its colorful change of character

Its frost and its fire.


To feel, Lord, the element of Thy being

In the heartbeat of seasonal sensation

The touch of Thy many facets

The kiss of the cold and warm wind,

Thy many embraces

For in the whirlwind of weather Thou reveal intricacies of Thy nature.


Calling to us,

‘further up and further in’

to the sublime

If we have the quiet to listen.

A heart vulnerable enough to answer the call.


For we must drop our swords and shields

No more armoring up

We must out of the cave crawl

A buffered being in the totality of turning inward.

Grace gives,

We begin to face outward

So we can take the lantern questing deep within

For Thee

who hast accomplished all that we have done.


So we may grip Thy ground,


Feel the earth planted

Our feet sending forth roots.


And we drop our sorrowing, sickened selves at the door

Where our freedom has been won.

And we swim in the ocean of

Thy blood

Thy heartbeat

Thy life beat.

Once more our sacredness restored.

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D. Santos is a primary & secondary school educator by trade, housewife by choice and homeschooling mother of 3 (soon to be 4!) children. In between the never ending towers of dishes, mountains of laundry and wiping sticky children's faces, she aspires to find time to read about writing and write about things she has read. She has a passion for Classical Education, relearning the art of homemaking and creating the home to be a sacred space that follows the Liturgical life of the Church.