Poems About St. Paul's

 A few days ago, I mentioned some poetry I had written about our cathedral family in the aftermath of the Murrah Bombing of April, 1995.  The majority of my writings were essays from that time, but for a couple of Christmases, I wrote poems. 
The first was written before the renovations to the cathedral itself were completed.  In it, I tried to convey the sense of our Christmas celebration while "wandering in the wilderness" of  Dean Willey Hall.  (Which was cramped and crowded for these larger celebrations, but had a magical air about it all the same.)





Christmas Eve
By Carolyn Kay Armistead, 1996

The scent of pine needles, incense, and candle wax fill the air.
There is much confusion about the processional, and just who goes where.
But the night is full of magic, wonder and joy
As our Christian family prepares once again to welcome the baby boy.

The baby boy who came into a world of uncertainty and pain,
Who understands how we feel, being in Dean Willey Hall again,
And not in our beautiful Cathedral, with its comfort and sacredness.
He knows how it feels to deal with hatred's harmful effects.

Well He knows our sorrow, our impatience and our pain
And yet He makes us glad to be together, even if in the Hall again.
For He was not born in a fancy palace, or a hospital clean and grand;
But in a lowly stable, with cows, sheep and shepherds close to hand.

If He could be content with a birthplace so quiet and humble;
Who are we to be unhappy with our lot and to grumble?
After all, we are safe and still together, and together we still can sing
The same joyful song of angels, and isn't that the most important thing?


This next was written about a night that was almost giddy in its joyfulness.  We were once again in our beautiful Cathedral, able to worship in the way we had been accustomed to.  There were many new faces with us that night, and some of them actually stuck around after Christmas!



A Cathedral Christmas
By Carolyn Kay Armistead
1998

Here we are again:
The faithful and the now and then,
Assembled once more with great joy
To welcome a special baby boy.

This time our Cathedral is restored
To give homage to the One adored;
Our family home again made new,
Through with the years of "making do."

A delight to all the senses it becomes,
With new organ to support our songs,
And finery restored to its original glory,
The better to illustrate the Gospel story.

So round His table again we gather,
Banished is the world and all its bother,
For we are family, loved and treasured;
A gift with value too great to be measured.

As into the cold, crisp night we go,
Our hearts remain with love aglow.
Each face we have seen, each voice is precious,
For in each is God's love for us reflected.

High altar at St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma



 This was written a few years later, as a reflection on the rather stark services we have every Good Friday.

 Good Friday

By Carolyn Kay Armistead
April, 2000

You taught us when we mourn
Not to wear ashes on our heads,
Not walk around filled with
Sorrow and with dread
But Lord, that was before;
Before they dragged you off
To die
Before the clouds
Stole the sunlight from the sky.
How can I not wear ashes on my head?
How can I not be filled with sorrow and with dread?
When it is my fault you are dead.
It was for me that they nailed you to that tree
It was my sin that took you away from me.



This last was written about five years ago, again a reflection on a service that is often very emotionally difficult to get through.  The music we sing, the way the church is stripped of all decoration, it all leaves us feeling the desolation, at least partially, that the disciples felt.


Good Friday thoughts 2008
By Carolyn Kay Armistead

Again the solemn ritual is done.
Again we read the painful lines
That tell how our salvation was won.

The dark church, the altar bare
Testify to the sadness in our hearts
For we drove our Savior there.

For love of us, the Innocent died
Because of us, Love made sacrifice
And all creation with us cried.

But today we know a secret thing
Those first believers did not.
We know the bells of Easter soon will ring

For Love has conquered even death!


Now, this one I have posted in this blog once before.  I wrote it as a reflection on a very beautiful service that is a tradition in our church.  Evensong is a lovely service, simple, musical, and peaceful.  The prayers are beautiful, and they are usually sung.  We were blessed at that time to have Canon Luke Back to officiate and sing for us.  Now that we have Dean Justin Lindstrom, who also has a wonderful singing voice, maybe we can have a Sunday evensong again sometime.


Evensong
Oct. 21, 2007

The day is fading in the West
Our weary souls and bodies long for rest
But to Your house, O Lord we come
To raise our voices in Evensong.
We sing Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis
And O Gracious Light
To ask that You, Lord, remain with us
Through the darkness of the night.


Music is a very large part of our experience at church.  The music we sing helps us worship.  It helps those in the congregation, and when I can't participate, I miss it a LOT.  So glad my singing voice as of today is more than 99% back, and by Sunday, it should be 100%.  (Also get another week to practice my solo audition for Master Chorale, thanks to inclement weather causing a rehearsal and auditions to be canceled until next week.)