Continuation on a Theme of L'Engle

Greetings!
And salutations, of course.
To begin: if you are in love with David Tennant of Dr. Who-dom, need another romantic comedy in your life, or are simply craving the sound of a Scottish accent--I recommend The Decoy Bride. It is a film about a lousy author engaged to a famous and paparazzi-hating actress. To escape the unwanted press, they decide to get married on the remote Scottish Isle of Hegg--the setting of the author's best-known novel. As they say, "hilarity ensues"--along with plenty of sweetness and an elderly Scottish couple so in love I nearly cried. Totes adorbs! [Muhaha, I made you read that! Sorry. I'm an adult again.]

Here are two more sonnets responding to The Irrational Season. But first, here is the...strangest, most I-want-to-believe-this passage from her book (so far): From the chapter, "The Noes of God":

"I know a number of highly sensitive and intelligent people in my own communion who consider as a heresy my faith that God's loving concern for his creation will outlast all our willfulness and pride. No matter how many eons it takes, he will not rest until all of creation, including Satan, is reconciled to him, until there is no creature who cannot return his look of love with a joyful response of love....Some people feel it is heresy because it appears to deny freedom to refuse to love God. But this, it seems to me, denies God his freedom to go on loving us beyond all our willfullness and pride. If the Word of God is the light of the world, and this light cannot be put out, ultimately it will brighten all the dark corners of our hearts and we will be able to see, and seeing, will be given the grace to respond with love--and of our own free will....When the gates of hell are trampled down [as they were during the time between the cross and resurrection], they suddenly become the welcoming door to heaven."

I don't know if this is heresy or not, but...either way, Madeleine L'Engle clearly is a child of God. Thank goodness we are saved by grace and not by having our theological ducks in a row. I certainly don't.

Sin of Omission

The Negative is simple: simply stand,
Un-moving (-seeing, -loving), bothered not,
No more than breathing, by your fellow man
Who breathes belabored, sin-trapped, trouble-caught.
But you are Good, to stand there true as true,
No grime upon you, eyes pure piercing blue,
Courageous, never doubting where to go
(That's nowhere)--you're the paragon, the show.
This worm behind you (you  could barely hear
His "Sir, I'm thirsty!" whispered half in words
You never learned--excusing your austere
And statuesque denial that you heard)
Has fallen, finally. Now you dare to turn--
But you're in darkness, while his dying burns.

Out There

Write with curtains drawn, denying sun,
Distraction--ugliness Out There--
To hide indoors, the one and lonely one,
Breathe shallow, re-recirculated air.
Out There--too hot, too cold, just not "just right,"
In here--I can create a paradise
Of seventy degrees, midsummer's night
In deepest winter. Doesn't that sound nice?
Except: I need distraction, need extremes,
Need something Other I cannot control--
Like weather, friendship, weird, unbidden dreams
To draw me out of self and make me whole,
  Not holed-up, leeching on a finite mind,
  Protecting Comfort--only to go blind.