September 2019 Writing

Lydia

I wonder if in the early morning
You saw in your inward eye
Myriads of crocus flecked with gold
Those wonderful petals now crushed
Purple dye flowing in profusion
That another use to colour the cloth
You sold on market day at Lystra.

Today you waited: trade was slow
Paul, a Jewish scholar came over
We talked of spiritual things
Exhaling the creator god
For a moment God’s bounty amazed me
And I saw again those crocuses
But now in that garden
Where the stone was rolled away

Jesus as Paul explained walked here
He wanted to bless me by Baptism
Later after the ceremony
Paul entered my home
Life would never be the same again
Then I saw those crocuses
With the purple dye flowing
And I drank of the water of life
As evening light faded into night.

©Rosemary Orr

Women

From Adams rib
And God’s blessing
Came eve
Bone of his bone
Flesh of his flesh
To cling together
The woman in her naivety
Was tempted
To taste the harshness of life
Tasting the juice of the fruit
Shouldering the guilt and pain.
But like the waves in the sea
Rising up, filling oceans
With colour and bravery
Then becoming the chosen vessel
Of Jesus earthly beginning
Strength to comfort Him
Giving power to womanhood
Despite scorn, degradation, rape.
A burning candle of hope
Bravery, example of goodness
Reflecting the love of Jesus
Courage to conquer prejudice
By trying to create
A more compassionate equal world.

© Helen McNicholl