my reward

My Reward

My if-onlys are taken care of by grace. My what-ifs are taken care of by faith. My neither-here-nor-therenesses find themselves in His plan — I am safe in the hollow of His hand. There is no fear when the storms bombard, for my castle is not built on sinking sand. My hope is built on stable land — His love is my reward.

ruth mostrales 24 July 2009

Adoration

I.

The trees lift their fruits as an offering,

In the morning when they pray;

The birds are drawn to their nests,

At the end of a tiresome day.

The fish of the sea explore the depths,

Through rays that pierce the waves;

Your love shines through the darkness—

By Your amazing grace.

II.

The stars line up to adore You,

Their brightness as per appointment;

The skies, from end to end retell

The story of Jesus’ atonement.

The moon lights the path of the wind,

To find its way home in the valley;

My heart responds to Your Spirit,

My heart delights in Your company.

III.

How You form a mountain from a pebble,

How You make a bouquet from a seedling;

How You stir the ocean with a ripple,

How You start from nothing to make

something!

How You take a piece of my suffering,

To create a heart of rejoicing;

I am nothing apart from Your doing —

I am safe within Your keeping!

IV.

Let me not rise like a sturdy mountain,

Let me curl small within Your palm;

Let me not soar if a reckless raven,

But lock me up in Your awesome plan.

If I rise, let me rise to follow You,

If I fall, let me fall to honor You;

Just let me say how much I love You —

Just let me stay in love with You.

V.

I will lift my eyes to the heavens,

When circumstances cloud my judgment;

I will seek Your guidance and acceptance

And claim this very day Your present.

In this song of adoration,

I will lift Your Holy Name;

Father You deserve the best of me —

Thy glory will never, ever wane.

Ruth V. Mostrales

Find Me

Find me where Mom is cooking…

Find me where birds are chirping…

Find me where second hand books are sold…

Find me where stories are told…

Find me where clothes are on sale…

Find me chasing my cat’s tail…

Find me where ideas are unfettered…

Find me where love is deciphered…

Find me where the Word is being preached…

Find me where the dark is being reached…

Find me where I am…

Find me if you can.

Ruthie Mostrales
December 7, 2009

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W.H. Auden

O Tell Me The Truth About Love

Some say that love’s a little boy,

And some say it’s a bird,

Some say it makes the world go round,

And some say that’s absurd,

And when I asked the man next-door,

Who looked as if he knew,

His wife got very cross indeed,

And said it wouldn’t do.

Does it look like a pair of pajamas,

Or the ham in a temperance hotel?

Does its odour remind one of llamas,

Or has it a comforting smell?

Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,

Or soft as eiderdown fluff?

Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?

O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it

In cryptic little notes,

It’s quite a common topic on

The Transatlantic boats;

I’ve found the subject mentioned in

Accounts of suicides,

And even seen it scribbled on

The backs of railway-guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,

Or boom like a military band?

Could one give a first-rate imitation

On a saw or a Steinway Grand?

Is its singing at parties a riot?

Does it only like Classical stuff?

Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?

O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;

it wasn’t ever there:

I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,

And Brighton’s bracing air.

I don’t know what the blackbird sang,

Or what the tulip said;

But it wasn’t in the chicken-run,

Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?

Is it usually sick on a swing?

Does it spend all it’s time at the races,

Or fiddling with pieces of string?

Has it views of its own about money?

Does it think Patriotism enough?

Are its stories vulgar but funny?

O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning

Just as I’m picking my nose?

Will it knock on my door in the morning,

Or tread in the bus on my shoes?

Will it come like a change in the weather?

Will its greeting be courteous or rough?

Will it alter my life altogether?

O tell me the truth about love.

W.H. Auden

Spelling

Spelling

 

 

 

 

 Spell the word “frIEnd” with an -I- then an -E-;

a friend is a treasure for you and for me.

Spell “recEIve” this way, and always remember —

our friendship is a gift from the Maker.

 

Let’s hide our precious secret in the

heart, where it’s safer; and

write it down with

love, and not letters!

 

ruthie mostrales

A Veil Enlightens You

I’ve been cursed to kiss forever in solitude, consoled by the love light cast upon myself but was stolen by a foe. For though I see myself, with the glimmers upon you, the rays that made it known to all hid me from your view. Darkness creeps till black is pitch: your wisdom is a fool’s — a stupid hope illumines me, a veil enlightens you.

Don’t Rock the Children

Don’t Rock the Children

Ruth V. Mostrales

 

Don’t rock the children

In cradles of lies —

their slumber is certain,

but their future Dies.

 

Don’t belittle the children

or steal their spirit,

for a cocoon left alone

fulfills its promise.

 

What a dreadful future to

await with fear, if we

disregard the prospect

while the seeds are here!

 

Don’t rock the children

In cradles of lies —

their slumber is certain,

but our future Dies.

 

-work in progress-

 

The Divine Conductor Laid His Baton on the Table

The Divine Conductor Laid His Baton on the Table

 Ruth Mostrales

 

He left without a word.

Anyway, he was not that good with them,

so nobody could tell how it all ended, except that

it had begun to rain that day.  Nobody heard a cry for help,

No nothing.

We wish he could have said:

 “I’m leaving, little ones.”

 

On his doorstep, the welcome mat

was unmoved.  No one sees it often.

When he leaves his house,

he abandons no one inside, just a ghost of the past —

Grandma, the only woman

he truly loved and loved him back.

 

When we got to him his eyes were

transfixed on the ceiling, something he sees everyday.

We thought, perhaps heaven opened before him,

 (otherwise, he wouldn’t stare with such passion) —

he, a spectator of  a host of winged musicians

playing the sound, that of trumpets; yet, how queer to his

earthly ears and how light upon his tired soul,

scooping him up for a joyride of notes

never before released from the realm of

creativity, ingenuity or imagination

because such vessels cannot

contain nor pour

it.

 

Of that character must have been the spectacle before him,

for he never closed his eyes until he was found. 

We recovered his trumpet

(already ill with rust).

It was as dead as it was silent.

 

Others surmise he must have struggled for that

last blow, as a trumpeter prepares for the long

finale, sucking in air and filling his lungs

for that final flight, before the curtain falls and the final applause.

Be that as it may, we were in agreement with one thing:

There was no encore performance that day —

the Divine Conductor laid His baton on the table.

 

In loving memory of Uncle Ben…you will never be forgotten. 

-work-in-progress-

Unbearable Distance

My Dream and You

My Dream and You

 

Where do dreams go home?

Why are they gone when I wake up?

Last night, you filled my mind,

And when I closed my eyes,

There you were.

 

I didn’t mean to find you,

be with you again, and our past

relive.

 

If I looked beyond here,

will my dream be there?

 

Even as fog is devoured by the sun,

My dream of you is stolen by the Leviathan.

 

I wish to keep my dream,

help me in my desire;

Bring the dream with you,

and salute the night

with me.

 

Ruth V. Mostrales

 

Panaginip, Kasama Mo

 

Saan ba umuuwi

Ang panaginip?

Bakit wala na siya

Pagkatapos kong

Maidlip?

 

Kagabi, naisip kita

Kaya’t pagpikit…

Nakita ka.

Hindi ko sinasadya

Na doon tayo’y magkakasama

Muli, at ang ating nagdaan

Ay masasariwa.

 

Kung sa kabilang ibayo

Ako’y maninilip…

Naroon kaya

Ang panaginip na marikit?

 

Gaya ng hamog

Na nilalamon ng araw,

Ang panaginip ko sa iyo

Ay ninanakaw ng halimaw.

 

Nais ko sanang itago

Ang panaginip ko.

Tulungan mo ako

Sa mithiin kong ito.

Dalhin mo ang panaginip

Kasama mo —

At batiin ang gabi

Kasama ko.

 

 

 

Ruth Mostrales

Alter Ego

Alter-ego

I’m the monster in your closet

That you’ve created years ago;

You didn’t find me in your closet,

‘Cause when you checked I didn’t show.

Behind the tassles of the mantle

That is covering your bed,

I have stayed.  Now, you’ll find out, 

I’ve been sleeping ‘neathe your head.

I’m the lie that you’ve concocted,

But, a lie, I am no more;

For you’ve given me much credit

I’m the truth that’s on the fore.

You will hide but I will follow,

In a heartbeat I shall find:

You and your denials

You shall see I ain’t so kind!

I’m the story you have woven

For your indulgence, remember now?

Find me first and then extinguish

For I can no longer hide, somehow.

It’s your time inside the closet!

It’s my time to take your place!

For the monster in your closet,

Will no longer be disgraced.

Ruth Mostrales