Darkness and Light


I stumbled across this poem written many years ago and decided to post it.

It was covering every windowpane
Thick and draped and full of dust
A scent of mothballs
A hint of myrrh
And along the hearth a candle burns
Dripping wax
Collected things adorned on nooks
Coat racks and cluttered clothes
Boards of oak along the floor
Spores of mold
And years of death
She reaches up to grasp the sheath
Releasing vision
Her eyes are hit with piercing glass
Shards of regret sting and burn
As the curtains flutter from the past
The sunlight scorches her pupil’s sore
She clenches her eyelids and feels such pain
If only the sun would erase the rain
She raises her hands above her head
And in a moment parts her lips to whisper
Oh, Ruach, please fill this space
Engulf this temple
Come and stay
She softly sings a precious hymn
About a King who came and bled
About a Light that raised from death
About a man who took the keys
Once more she bends the knee
Once again her fingers bleed
Take this cup!
She shouts at the moon
Take this heart!
For I fear it will never bloom
Take my seeds, and perhaps they’ll land
Not dusty ground or quickened sands
She talks to the little girl inside her soul
Heal my child, for you are to become whole
You know precisely what you must do
Allow the Son to light the moon
Alight your soul and let Him envelop your heart
And covenant stands when yet we fall
Upholding the truth
Upholding the law
She bathed until the waters were black and drained the tub of dirt and ash
She burned her garments and clipped her nails and after a month wedding bells
She cut her hair close to the scalp
She sighed through parted lips
The Father blessed her childbearing hips
Although not broad or birthing ready
The blood-stained thighs were now round and steady
She dried the ink that was stained with tears
And exhaled all the years of bent up fears
Away she flies through wind and rains
Her hair now long whipping her face
Her nails are polished; her bow is aimed,
Her strength cannot be bent and swayed
In Hurricanes and raging seas, her trunk is like the Palm of Deborah’s tree

Had she finally learned to bloom?
In a desert?

A vineyard grows along her fence line, and honeysuckles scent the breeze
Her head is glistening— shiny, silky tassels bud with orchids that dance in the moonlight
As she runs to His Light
And she smiles, and she finally sees her strength and knows she is beautiful
Yeshua smiles and tilts her head upward to His Face, and she sees that He has eyes the color of the heavens and a smile that awakens the dawn.
His power shakes the heavens and the earth
And His Voice calms the seas
And suddenly she no longer bleeds
“I have many scars,” she says. And He holds out His Wrist for her to inspect.
Me too, my daughter, me too.


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