Cynthia Erlandson has had poetry published in First Things, Modern Age, Anglican Theological Review, Touchstone, The Book of Common Praise (Reformed Episcopal Church Hymnal), and Forward in Christ. Her first book, a collection of poems for the Church year called These Holy Mysteries, is available on Amazon. The incarnation of the spiritual in the physical -- the gift of being able to know our Creator through His creation because we are made in His image -- is an important theme to her. As a Personal Trainer and Senior Fitness Specialist, she helps people with the physical side of life.
Autumn’s flaming color scheme has faded; Dusk has smothered shortened day’s last ember. Can the brown chrysanthemums remember When their blazing hues became outdated? Last month’s lawn was jewel-green brocaded Tapestry inlaid with red and amber: Autumn’s flaming color scheme unfaded. Now, dusk has smothered shortened day’s last ember. Days ago two seasons, still…
Allow me at my end to be like these Descending leaves that elegantly dance Their final scene, expressing festive peace As they take leave of life. Still colorful, They ornament the sky as Fall’s sun slants To warm their gold, release their sweet fragrance. They’ve felt their feebling stems, and known the call Of gravity’s…
I the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost (I John 5: 7) The spirit, the Word, and the Father –Three in One – from eternity, gatheredThe earth, sky, and waters together. II the spirit and the water and the blood (I John 5: 8) The spirit, the water, the bloodBear witness on earth…
Set forth thy true and lively word, O Lord, Amidst this false and deadly earthen tongue With which we are surrounded. For a horde Of men with senseless syllables comes among Us, trampling down thy truth, to build a tower From which they think to wield confusion’s power. Send out thy tuneful sound to earth…
“The Church is in Christ as Eve was in Adam. … God made Eve of the rib of Adam. And His Church He formeth out of the very flesh, the very wounded and bleeding side of the Son of man.” — Richard Hooker Creating man from dust, And woman from his side, God…
Lord, save me from this rushing mighty wind That beats me beyond belief — buffets, blows The breath from me till I can’t walk, can hardly stand, just Stumble. Its confounding force opposes my progress, slows My steps, outdoes my poise – Checks, chokes me, hurts, thwarts, throws dust In my eyes, Defies my tries…
