Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Poem #6

"On Eagle's Wings"

was your favorite hymn as a child
outfitted in a light blue blouse, a navy jumper
sitting with other children dressed the same

You would sing, mouth open wide
imagining being borne on the breath of dawn
and fitting in the palm of His hand

You even learned sign language
and performed at the choral concert
             palms turned toward your heart
             thumbs interlocked
             fingers fluttering as wings
                                                     rising to the heavens

You dwelt in the shelter of the Lord
feeling safe from harm in His shadow
your Rock in whom you trusted

Then she died.

Your grandmother, your second mother
whose voice you cannot remember
even as she lay there listening to you speak--

Her funeral was at the very church
where you sang as a child
and even now, you cannot remember her voice--
if she sang with you, if she prayed aloud

You only remember hands
your hand holding hers
the cold metal bar of a gurney between them
wondering if this was what trust looked like

wondering if God has raised her up
on eagle's wings and now holds her
in the palm of His hand


[still working on this one. not crazy about the ending.]
[Note: some lyrics from the hymn appear in this poem]

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