The Vigil

come unto me

She swears the color yellow soothes a soul
So you will  find her staring at the garden
Fixed gaze on the yellowest flower there
In the yard
She guards
Her heart
Holding vigil over one who gives her labor pains
Though eighteen years have passed since birth
Holding hope for one
Who birthed her too
Traumatized by screams of pain
She is ripped in two
She finds the field of yellow calms her nerves
Between her shifting gaze she lays it down
And takes it up again, her sinful self desires to stir the pot
She rakes the coals, red hot
Searing
Bloody
Mad when stirred
Hotter when  she pokes the fire
Fear finds fuel in oxygen of snuffed out hope
So she’ll return to yellow on her color wheel
Where quiet and calm soothe her aching soul
Now she knows how He must feel
Father of a million times a million times a million, no more
And lover of as many souls
She will pick a single yellow stem
And give it all to Him
The Perfecter of Her Faith
The One Who Never Sleeps Nor Rests
She lays the flower down
She’ll rest
Reciting: Goldfinch, Monarch, Black-eyed Susans
Over in her dreams
Calmed by yellow memories and hum
It is well with my soul
For He has got her back, cradled in His arms
She wears the title
Mother, Daughter, but
No longer
Tender of a  flame that burns
Her heart consumed by fear.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Joining Jennifer Dukes Lee for #tellhisstory

7 thoughts on “The Vigil

  1. Wow, Elizabeth. I’ve missed your words while I’ve been away and caught up in the summer swirl. This is so powerful. I love the refrain of yellow ministering to a mother’s soul. Blessings, friend.

  2. I read this on my phone last night and tried to leave a comment, but for some reason I have a hard time logging into WP.com sites from my phone. In any case.

    I need a lot of yellow in my life, for much the same reason. I wrote a post not long ago about needing to pack yellow into my soul care toolkit.

    And, yes, I do believe she is held and cradled, calmed by yellow memories and hum. I firmly believe that God’s Spirit still whispers words of love and peace into hearts and minds wounded by age and disease. Perhaps the whispers come through the hum.

  3. I took a painting class once and the talented artist told me there is always yellow in the clouds. I started to look for it and it is there. Yellow– the color of roses that denote friendship and perhaps a soul that is seeking peace. So glad to link beside you today Elizabeth at #TellHisStory. I loved plucking from the depths of your poem this morning.

  4. Elizabeth–I like the line, ‘calmed by yellow memories’ and the idea of remembering God’s creation in those colors, and that ‘God’s got her back.’ Oh, how we need to lean and rest. This was a haunting, beautiful poem.

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