entrata festiva

Harvey S. Mozolak

the talking around the well
quickly dried and ceased
as the bells of the camels
turned the heads of the women
filling water jars
a smith’s hammer halted in midair
when they slowly paced by
their brightly colored robes
turbans and beards cut in a pattern
not known to Hebrews
and the clean chin of the Roman
bringing questions to widen neighbor’s eyes
as they stopped at the house
the carpenter outside
ceased his sawing
and let the long board drop
to the ground
as he hurried inside to where his wife
sat rocking the child
on a stool near the fire
they entered shouting a warm word
of greeting in some foreign tongue
followed by a slurred shalom
when they filled the small room
in wide brocade capes and gold tasseled cloaks
the smell of eastern incense
cinctured around them
there their low prostration created a royal carpet
before the small child
with a murmuring no doubt a whispered prayer
from leather bags they presented
gold lumps
incense clumps
and spice ground from fragrant tree stumps
these for a king
a priest and a sacrifice bleeding
the child lifted from his mother’s lap
became a gift in their arms
his weakness a strength to them
his serious eyes caused laughter
puzzlement and sage attention
as they listened to Joseph and Mary
tell of fearful angels
wild promises
solemn decrees
the visit of shepherds
and the long journey
from heaven and womb
to the good of the God in this room
after a dinner offered and shared
salted fish and bread
that seemed more than was simply prepared
the magi left
this time hardly noticed by the villagers
in the dimness of evening
traveling far to the west
where the sun leads by leaving
carrying the news of the blessing
and worth of this birth

living water

Harvey S. Mozolak

it is little known

perhaps not at all
except here revealed
that while the magi

brought gifts of three

large nuggets of gold

nodules from a frankincense tree

and myrrh’s resin made into aromatic salve

all three also brought flasks of water

that never emptied

all their journey long

through deserts and mountains

they never stopped at streams

or wells nor dipped in rivers

but always when they lifted

the leather bags to their lips

sweet moisture filled their mouths

dripped down and wet their beards

and for their beasts the same

at first they marveled

then it became expected

thus to drink and thus be filled

until they arrived at Jerusalem

and there they found their vessels empty

and their tongues always parched

no matter what they drank

a Roman ale again a Jewish wine

some pomegranate juice of Palestine

thirst and longing became a search

a panting path

until they entered under the last cascading

light of their traveling star

the baby when they entered

Joseph’s humble house was sitting in a bath

a dirty bath laughing

the light from his eyes bathed them

as their tears streamed down

to water the upturned lips of tired travelers  

of all things God toasting them

with his Son now a blood-relative

he the full flagon of divine promise

to be carried home

by the different route of God

mark the beginning

Isaiah 64   
Harvey S. Mozolak

the foliage
behind which we hid
has faded
the camouflage of living
is dead
our crypsis the trees
we will hide among them
blending among the branches
covering with leaves
our leaving for the future
until God is affixed
in their small grove
hidden in the hideous
and the wind which takes away
our name
fluttering  in babble
the beating of hope and heart
will whisper yours
into the ear of a girl
plain common young
within whom glory will swirl
the rip in heaven
to sew the ruined earth’s wounds
festered in filthy linen
laid now in swaddling cloth
and nakedness
at the plank
of death
planed to nothingness
torn down  
 

for a last and lasting Sunday

Harvey S.  Mozolak

the divine wearing
of a crown whose size encompasses
all the multiverse of space
planet orbits like gem settings
and risings of light for life
blossoming suns bursting from caverns
let time end and eternity travel
ever and for always
the I AM worn down
for the small figures
of bone jointed flesh
pinned by gravity to one small
ill-shaped stone
who cry an eleison
that the kyrie-king has chosen to hear
over the cataracts and torrents
of mass and energy
in the silence of listening grace
that speaks a Word
through a thorn-twisted sentence
plaited as a ring to be worn

attachment

Harvey S. Mozolak

the royal
quite separate
removed and at distance
from us
who hang about
waiting for some small chance
or fleeting moment
to see the passing by
hear the ring of ornamentation
the scent of as yet uncreated
perfume of purity’s perfection
and be brushed by hem of holiness
from a swaged gown of glory
the crown so high and bright
its glare surmounting clouds and storm
above our mud-sodden track and trod
and yet
who is this that is hung
before us?
pictured in pathetic pity
icon of God imaged
in a barn maiden’s motherhood
he clutching hold of life
draining nail by nail
from his hands
feet faltering to climb
the tree of death’s fall
leafless naked curled by cruelty
one not separate
but culled a lamb
among the goats
depart cursed
to prepare
for the starving strange
stripped sick and captive
the new unequalled kingdom

Christ the King Litany

Harvey S. Mozolak

Christ the King
you opened the boundary of heaven’s kingdom
entering by the power of the Spirit
the Virgin’s womb
to toil within our sinful turmoil

reign in our hearts
reign in our thoughts
reign in our doing

you crowned the Magi’s visit
with your innocent wisdom
a treasure hidden in infancy
greater than Solomon’s gift

let us serve you…
in the trust you give
in the deepest hope you arouse
in the love, yours that you make ours

you are a king who obeys his Father
and our Father in heaven
hallowed of old
ancient David knew your dominion
and your will be done

reign in our hearts
reign in our thoughts
reign in our doing

you preached
brought and bought
a monarchy measured in hearts
you conquered

let us serve you…
in the trust you give
in the deepest hope you arouse
in the love, yours that you make ours

the scepter of your rule
called disciples
the robe of your healing
covered lepers
the sword of your word
cut claims to lesser others
the light of your resurrection
orbs the world with eternity

reign in our hearts
reign in our thoughts
reign in our doing

bow with palms waved in palms
knees ground to ground
eyes shut to the earth
voices sealed in song
hosanna blessed is he
the Lord of power and might

let us serve you…
in the trust you give
in the deepest hope you arouse
in the love, yours that you make ours

you were ridiculed and purple mocked
bruised despised rejected and ignored
by kings governors emperors and priests
but the poor and shunned
became your court you acquit
in the grace of mercy’s richness

reign in our hearts
reign in our thoughts
reign in our doing

you are a king whose crown
drips rubies of bleeding blessing

let us serve you…
in the trust you give
in the deepest hope you arouse
in the love, yours that you make ours

your throne was wood
and you were nailed to it
lifted on a hill of pain and death

reign in our hearts
reign in our thoughts
reign in our doing

Jesus king of the Jews
and through them all the nations
below
all beneath the Nazarene monarch

let us serve you…
in the trust you give
in the deepest hope you arouse
in the love, yours that you make ours

all ss aboard

November sailing into December

Harvey S. Mozolak

who is this one

the first one in 144,000
raised to the numberless
in white
somewhat off white
muslin mussed here and there
by soil rip and wrinkle
one torn edge dirtied by dung
and in the middle
a smear of blood
his and hers
heaven and earth
king of all saints
anchored in advent time
his majesty
first
foremost
final
forever