Limousine moments...

The moments stretched
Like limousines
In funeral procession.
Each long and dark,
Appearing the same.
But, riding in each one,
A different memory.
Some familiar and often seen.
Some seen but once,
Then never again.
Like family gathered
To say good-bye,
Some better known than others,
But all present out of love.

They passed one after another,
Carrying their flowers
For his resting place.
Each pausing briefly
To be certain
I took notice.
Then, in tears,
Each departed—
Leaving a flower.
To dry, but remain.
To be treasured
As its color fades.
And kept
Forever.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2001
Written in 2001, remembering the night I sat with my father while he gently passed away.

Love's last seasons...

Of love, what remains when time has removed...
   What the body desired
      and Spring once inspired?
   When days yet to find
      lag days left behind?
   Of love, what will last
      once its Summer has passed?
Will love then deny what love once had proved?

If love was then love, that love time will save.
   Love that Fall cannot steal,
     nor Winter repeal.
   For the true lover's heart
     will not let it depart.
   It will not be removed
     but then even more proved...
Till the lover's tears fall on a snow-covered grave.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2018

And Jesus weeps with all of the mothers...

Something to think about...

As so many mothers weep for their missing and murdered daughters, I am certain that Our Lord weeps with them, and for them.  I am appalled by the numbers, which are staggering.  I am appalled by the degree to which we have allowed this to happen. And now, I weep and pray with the mothers, and fathers, and siblings, and children...

"Jesus wept."

Gospel of John, chapter 11, verse 35

In Just a Moment

Author's note: I wrote this as a song several years ago when, in the middle of the night, I was caused to consider that my life could possibly end in a very short time. My thoughts turned to God. The words and melody came to me quickly and completely in those uncertain moments. The crisis passed, and I wrote them down immediately.

       In Just a Moment
            by Joseph Weilenbeck

Maybe just a moment –
    I feel the end is drawing near.
Maybe just a moment –
    Is that death’s footsteps that I hear?
Maybe just a moment –
    My feeble eyes will lose their sight.
Maybe just a moment –
    My day on earth will turn to night.

But I’m not afraid,
    Though my life’s end I now can see.
I’m not afraid.
    I hear my Savior calling me.
I’m not afraid,
    Though all on earth will be my loss.
I’m not afraid.
    Soon, Jordan’s waters I will cross.

In just a moment –
    I’ll come into the Promised Land.
In just a moment –
    I’ll feel my Savior take my hand.
In just a moment –   
    I’ll know the fullness of His grace.
In just a moment –
    I’ll see the glory on His face.

But I’m not afraid,
    For Jesus died for all my sins.
I’m not afraid.
    The gates will open.  I’ll go in.
I’m not afraid.
    My destiny is not the grave.
I’m not afraid.
    By my Lord’s blood, I have been saved.
   
Then every moment –
    I’ll know joy beyond compare.
Every moment –
    With my Savior, I’ll be there.
Every moment –   
    Only glory will I see.
Every moment –
    In that bright mansion made for me.

But I’m not afraid,
    Though I now take my final breath.
I’m not afraid.
    I go to life, and not to death!
I’m not afraid.
    Unbounded grace I have been shown.
I’m not afraid.
    I am finally going home.

In just a moment.

            * * *

Joseph Weilenbeck 2013

This Morning’s Sun Need Ne’er Have Shown

Why do you lie beside me still

    And stir not least upon my touch?
Do you lack strength, or maybe will,
    My trembling hand to even clutch?

Does morning hold no promise bright
    To coax your sleeping eyes awake?
Will they not lift but ever slight,
    In pity, my worst fears to take?

Why do your lips now grow so cold,
    Though bathing in the sun’s warm glow?
Is there not another kiss they hold?
    Nor one more smile for them to show?

Does your heart not have another beat,
    That I could feel upon my own?
If not, ‘tis all of my defeat.
    This morning’s sun need ne’er have shown.

Joseph Weilenbeck December, 1998 
Written in sympathy for a friend - whose husband unexpectedly passed away in their bed one morning

No one to tell me why...

I now lie beneath freshly turned ground
And with eyes sealed shut, I look around
I see the earthworm pass me by
So I ask, but he cannot tell me why

With ears rendered deaf, over the din
Of my now silent voice crying out from within,
I hear a chorus of sprouts as they search for the sky
So I ask, but they cannot tell me why

No one knew why...

I once wrote a song...

    No one knew why
I once wrote a poem...
    No one knew why
I once painted a picture...
    No one knew why
I once shared my dreams...
    No one knew why
I once spoke of great ideas...
    No one knew why
I once lived...
    No one knew why

No Better Place

---

The Testimony of One Who Found Himself in . . .


No Better Place
By Joseph Weilenbeck

If only I could tell you. If only I had heard.
If only I had believed. If only . . .

The light and the voices in the room at last gave way to darkness and silence.  All pain, all feeling, ceased.  All sensation faded.  Only a vague notion of movement remained, though neither vision nor feeling survived to give credence to that notion. 

Thoughts of peace began to replace the pain and anxiety that had finally released their hold upon me.  And with those thoughts, came memories.  Memories of comfort felt in my mother’s arms, of reassurance heard in my father’s voice, of tenderness shared in my wife’s loving touch, and of joy celebrated in play with my daughter.

My Mother's Tears

My mother's tears

pour from her eyes
like the summer rain
on the mesa.
But they never touch me.
They never reach
the barren ground
that hides me.

My flesh,
my blood
long turned to sand,
leave only my bones...
lying and waiting
for my mother's tears

to find me.

Screams from the night,
from an endless night,
searched for an ear to hear.
But no one would hear
and no one would come.
Now only my bones
are left to cry out.

So, from my desert grave
again I scream.
But still
no one comes.
And my mother's tears
wait to find me.

Night after night
I look down
on the city.
But I have no eyes
to see the lights.
And day after day
I bake in the sun
and wait in the dark
for my mother's tears
to find me.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2015

For those found, and yet to be found, on Albuquerque's West Mesa -- and for their families.
Do not forget them, nor those not yet found.

Like a ship within a storm...

Author's note:  I wrote this poem and song in 1992, as my father lay gravely ill. For a month, I stayed with him at the hospital.  My mother, as well as my wife, daughter, and sister stayed nearby.  I left the hospital only briefly for an occasional meal with my family.  I spent hours in meetings with doctors. I spent even more hours in the Chapel with my mother, praying for Dad and for strength to face whatever was to be. Dad experienced days of rallying, and days of decline.  Hope for recovery soon gave way to the beginning of grief, as he continued to weaken, and his condition continued to deteriorate.  I spent the last night in near darkness by his bedside, as life slowly left his body. I prayed, and wept, and gave thanks to God for this man who meant so much to me.  In the middle of this month-long ordeal, I wrote these words.

Like a ship within a storm...
by Joseph Weilenbeck

Lord, I don’t know how
I’ll make it through
Another day.
It seems the things
I’ve counted on
Are slipping fast away.

There is nothing near
That I can see
And cling to for support.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
And far from any port.

The stress is high.
The day is long.
I’m frightened and alone.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
So very far from home.

I feel despair
Engulfing me.
I fear that I will drown.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
With no hope of reaching ground.

I’m at the edge
Where I can see
No future but to die.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
Her stern tipped toward the sky.

I make one final
Desperate plea
To You in my distress.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
Sending one last SOS.

Then with Your faithful love
You lift me
High above the storm.
And wrap protecting
Arms around me—
Keeping me from harm.

My fears now calmed,
My hope restored,
I know I’m not alone.
Just like a ship
Still in the storm—
But safely heading home.


Joseph Weilenbeck 1992

A Blessed Assurance

A Blessed Assurance

by Joseph Weilenbeck

2009

The first hint of daybreak began to show at the window. The lights of the monitor next to Dad’s bed had been the dominant source of light for the past eight hours.  A dim light over the sink had provided barely enough light to read.  And muffled sounds of the hospital staff at work had occasionally penetrated the stillness of the room.  It would be one of the longest nights of my life. But, far too quickly, it came to an end.  As the light outside the window slowly began to grow brighter, the sounds of life-sustaining breath I had been intently listening to throughout the night grew noticeably weaker.