grace to serve

my love for winged creatures

dragged me into the wilderness

the home of the wild beasts

my focus on feathers blinded

me utterly until i was just behind

the lioness following a little rabbit

now aware of grace

that saved me i quickly climbed

a wall to walk out of the wilds

only to encounter a tiger

that graciously gave me

just a mere eye contact

and let me walk through

dodging a herd of elephants

i may save my brother pursued

by two domestic wild angry dogs!

henry victor      02.03.2007

 

too early

too early to dive, to swim

or for fishing

too early to make love

to make a nest, or for dreaming

some yell at the lake still frozen

to dive, swim, or fishing

some, perhaps, more matured

wait, patiently, until the wind blows

and the sun softens to melt

thick ice to water

that the fish may come up

to peep, to celebrate the spring

and sacrifice their flesh

that you may eat and drink

to make love

and multiply before you leave

henry victor      11.04.2007

escapee

 

you were just a few months old

when we bought a dozen of budgies

to keep the house noisy and colorful

it was then that one of these birds

got out of our aviary

that tore my heart and caused me pain

not because of the loss of my funds

or the decrease in the sound

but the escapee knew not

to survive in the outside world

marked by too many predators

now with three months more

for you to be eighteen

and with your flight

away from my sight

the same concern surfaced in my heart

leaving me with a sleepless night

henry victor      26.09.2007

awake

you inside the cave of my soul

is always awake

monitoring my every cell

for the inflow of sugar

awakening my brain when

the trickling stops

no matter even

if mind is submerged in dream

i wake; i respond

to your summoning

giving thanks much grand

naming it: miracle

© henry victor           13.09.2016 

battling boulder

you roll around me like a stream

with your sleeplessness as i sleep

deep, like a rock hard and un-wet

un-hurt in my soul as souls wait

to merge into the ocean of your love

like my body eventually becoming earth

to earth, and ashes to ashes! for in death

as in life, none can separate my heart

from yours flooding and surging in love

for me more than my daughter does for her

baby daughter; thus launching providence

you let me roll as a brook battling boulder

© henry victor             16.09.2016

psalm 151

my pleadings like smoke

came to you and you listened
my prayers like fog
were before you, and me, you assisted

my days now stay strong
like rocks of Rockies
my nights are peaceful
like lakes in mountains

my heart leaps with joy

like a dancing deer
my plate is full
with extravagant bread

my bones are strong

like the Indian iron wood
my past wrongs you blotted
all out of my sight

i now soar high, and higher

like an eagle in flight
i sit with poise like a king
on throne with no guards around
 
i sleep like a log
the whole night in my bed
i am busy like a bee
the whole day collecting food

in the day of my anguish

you hid not your face
in my distress i called you
and you speedily responded

© henry victor     11.10.2003 

gray jay in my campsite

like that camp thief, the gray jay

boldly inviting herself

into my campsite, my grace to enjoy

i bravely venture into your precincts

hoping you will take note of my presence

and drop scraps of manna

or at least, take pleasure

in my being in your vicinity

that you may in your sketchbook

sketch my form and note my color

to later open your guarded tablet

to cross check and tick my name

© henry victor     05.08.2003

the phantom cento

i know what the caged bird

feels about you and me who invade

woods; these are, i think i know

dear to him moving towards the river

some evenings i roamed the moor

beyond the bounds of snowy mountains

while you sat under the tree in autumn

moving stone to bronze and to steel

munching a plum or pulling out your thumb

watching phantoms in the changing crowd

while my hair cut straight across my forehead

that all people in Greece disliked and hated!

© henry victor       11.01.2016

sun in midnight

i am

with me alone

my tea-candle lit

wavering,

gently

silence surround

but the buzzing in my furnace

and an oozing, a little noise

in my laptop

remind the working well

peace? yes

no peace? yes

that beyond is mine

my quest

understanding? yes

not understanding? yes

that beyond is mine

my present

emptying, that self-emptying

a self-esteem found in Jesus

walking to his tree

lifted high, higher than

any social ladder could lift my soul

if possible, before my sleep

with no dream and no blanket

wool, cotton or the synthetic

most ticks those that itched

my mind and body have left me

looking and searching for other dogs

leaving me to heal the scars

they left on the skin of my soul

i sit alone contemplating

that balm that removes

stain on my spirit

will i find, or not

matter very little

to me now

but i am looking

with that midnight

sun

that matter most

henry victor     05.11.2011

you remember me

you remember me

despite my forgetting you

as i drive, not rushing

nor slowing to rest and relax

except to drink coffee in Tim Horton

now, not a luxury, nor a place

for careless throwing away of my coins

but a necessity, that careful

keeping of my blood-sugar in check

so that malady does not dance

within that space steadily serviced

by those remaining un-scarred arteries

© henry victor     23.04.2011

your remembrance

though my cup overflows

flooding with forgetfulness

of those many graces

that you have poured to brim

of my unfolding, my becoming

your merciful being so gently

continues to knit, to mend

my frame, flesh and fibre

to let your spirit flow

in your sacred temple

where you have installed

my soul to be the priest

to celebrate the world of my commerce

your sacred altar that invites all

to sit, eat, and sip the drink

your remembrance, my pain and pleasures

until in you i merge

like that little brook

running towards that large

ocean embracing all flowing

© henry victor      24.04.2011

spider grass

an egoless entity sits on my counter

growing silently while cleaning the air

i breathe in my home, adding colour

and feather to  my cap too: a gardener

now, as my ego bloats with a bonus character;

i am rich with purpose, meaning! yet, fatter

self i seek, though deaf and blind to matter

invisible, working on ego patently to counter

until i prick to make it par with a spider

on my wall crawling and making tighter

web to net the mosquitoes distracting my ear

with a song of might, intent to spill gore

© henry victor        06.01.2017

minerals and snow

i need your grace for me to grow

like my cactus on my window
sill depend on the light of the sun
i let in pulling aside my curtain

i need an opportunity, on floor

sufficient soil me to stand, to show
my flower and fruit, to root at last
that i, your applause proudly harvest

i need also minerals and snow

for withering of body and brain
in my soul does not happen even
as i, my Master’s path, follow

i need someone to lift his brow

so others too may pause to glance
while your love i clearly announce
inviting others too with me to grow

 

answered and unanswered prayers

you were there yesterday as i sat

at the edge of my wit and desperately cried
and today my those needs are met
with my faith in you multiplied!

again i am in your presence

knowing too well that i cannot put you
or, your providence to test but i’ve the awful
memory of all unanswered prayers!

teach me the art to live and feel your presence

though unseen, absent and place my confidence
in your providence to receive my daily bread
and more that i may cease to fret and frown!

Note: Photo credit to Mario Flores!

perfectly still

i thank you, though it is a silly act

to praise the providence unlike the moon
in size and strength increasing and decreasing
but shines consistently like that mighty sun
unaffected by the drifting clouds
nor bullied even a bit
by the transient permanent change in season!

keep me away from running after success in personal

professional, or spiritual kind, uprooting from my soul
that weed, that inclination for sainthood
the tempter secretly sows in moments of my slumber!

assist me with your grace to be still, perfectly still

like that pond heron standing on one leg!
press me hard with pain, your grace until
in you i am well grafted
leaving behind, and loosing
from my mind the thought of my growth
or, that greater fruit bearing!

 

making her nest

i observe my daughter growing

from dependence to independence
breaking away from comfort and security
from living under my shade and shadows
to that making of her own nest!

and i congratulate her though inwardly it hurts

sometimes like an anginic piercing in heart
and i know this must happen
and it is to this end my parenting
should journey towards!

this makes me wonder

whether it is a sign of immaturity
that i keep coming to you seeking
shade and shelter under your invisible
wings like a chick running into her mother
hen’s wings every time a raven fly past by her!

teach me then the art of balancing

between my dependence on your providence
and my need for independence
another aspect, the other side, of your providence
demanding my growing into maturity
of body, mind, heart and spirit
that i will eventually be equipped to judge
critically, and create the new city
with you in the ocean i am placed!

a contemporary confession

you are the very source of my life
though you always remain invisible to eyes
with limited focus and incomprehensible to mind
leaping like a monkey lacking patience

i sit not still to carefully weave together

the available evidence for your being
ending at the end doubting you and failing to feel
your presence pleasing my heart, compelling conscience

i am rarely ready to choose your will and walk

in the path you choose as it winds through the dark
valley lacking fame for self and also deficient
with worldly wealth but in plenty is repeated failure

though you have always remained sufficient

for saints who cherished your presence; they learnt
the art of quiet mind and the heart that only houses
your throne, emptying the vessel they sailed calm

but i am growing like a plant bent and choked

by a crowded surrounding desperately turning
towards the life giving sun to shine on her body
to yield a few fold before drooping to die

i pray, hence, you stoop down to lift me up

to the realm of your regular presence, the grace
i may breathe in and breathe out, your life-giving
silver rays to make my limbs strong and stout

 

always something there

sure, there is always something there

to clean up, to be made straight

i am aware that you are perfect

and perfection is that towards which
you gently, and often not so gently
tug me, nudge me and push me

but my perfection is dependent

on your all-pervading presence
that your hand may re-make
and re-mould my inner person

my being has been corrupted by the world

with much filth, and in turn
my soul, with much dirt, too has polluted
the world you created so beautifully

so, again i plead for your covering

my soul, with your gentle hovering
over my every moment and every space
that i escape not from your presence

your presence is your providence,

the fertile soil in which my soul
thrives like a tree planted by the brook
yielding fruit in season and out of season
with no withered branch, nor leaf
drooping to taint your glory

 

just in

each morning i wake with your gentle pat
that floats in the dawn light lightly touching
my cheeks and forehead after a good night
sleep with you beside, sleepless, watching

over my feeble frame with that anxious soul
fearful of the faltering arteries, vessels capable
of blocking, or clotting blood that streams
through to keep together the nightly dreams

that i at dawn may pet, pat another soul revealing
your essence, demanding me to bend down
to kiss him sleeping beside after repeated rolling
to lodge my pillow and with his arm to hug to own

henry victor     01.03.2013

night heron

roaming foxes

and creeping pythons

provoke not poetry

in night heron

that challenges me

with her silence

and unsung patience

before flying

with splendid colour

of a slim structure

reminding, also, the need

to anchor in hope

of a better tomorrow

a faith in universal care

and abandoning speed

for anxious moving

henry victor     14.01.2002