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Poem

Priscilla’s News

The Word 	
	Threads every dawn
	Dyed in blue
		And
	Purples hues
And walks in time
 With the meter of a shuttle
	A steady
	Pulsing rhythm
	The beat of warp and woof
		Rising-falling
		Falling – rising
Weaving seasons through the soul
 Into new patterns
	Of hope
		Foretold –
	Life born from an empty tomb
	And ancient promise
		Raised up in flesh
			Called from the grip of a cerecloth
		Shouting in triumph
			Over mortality clothed in flesh
				In bright threads of victory;
A season of the heart
 Peering through dark threads
	Of winter’s midnight
And passing over
	The bondage of empires
		And conquering armies
In crimson strands,
The Word
Proclaimed to countless souls
	Shivering through each starless night –
		Waiting-hoping
		Hoping-waiting
Not knowing eternity’s covenant 
 Changed the pattern
 Of each life which numbly wandered
		From Eden to exile
		Exile to Eden
New creations –
New highways leveled -
New valleys rise embracing mountaintops 
Where footsteps
	Joyfully announce		
		Good News!
Changing colors of despair
 To brilliant shades of joy
In the handiwork of a new handmaid -
	Woman of the Word –
Who did not travel the holy roads,
	Or wait upon the Living Word,
But sees through eyes,
	Once blinded eyes
	That held the coats
	Of hands that martyrs made,
The calling of the weaver’s wife
 To raise a herald’s voice
  In a foreign wilderness
For those who wait in darkness
 Preparing a new made way
  In a tent of tapestry – hearts interwoven –
Bound by the Word.

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