I fall asleep to the petty whine
of a full refrigerator
while my sister’s heart hammers
to the relentless rhythm
of staccato gun-fire and crescendo sirens
Screaming closer.
She draws her knees to her chest
beneath fear-soaked cotton
while her babies cry for a lullaby.
Oh Singer! She is my sister.
Would you wrap your melody-shawl
around her shoulders
and rock her gently in the poem of your love?
And when at last her lashes brush her cheeks in sleep
would you chase the dirge from her darkness;
breathe quiet into her night?
And peace?
She is my sister, though I don’t know her name.
May her dreams hum with harmony until at last her ancient troubles
Drum the new day,
And then as despair meets dawn,
even then, would you trace the phrase of her stretch-yawn-stretch
with your smile?
and would your hope-kissed lyrics linger the morn
on her lips?
For she is my sister,
and You know her name.
of a full refrigerator
while my sister’s heart hammers
to the relentless rhythm
of staccato gun-fire and crescendo sirens
Screaming closer.
She draws her knees to her chest
beneath fear-soaked cotton
while her babies cry for a lullaby.
Oh Singer! She is my sister.
Would you wrap your melody-shawl
around her shoulders
and rock her gently in the poem of your love?
And when at last her lashes brush her cheeks in sleep
would you chase the dirge from her darkness;
breathe quiet into her night?
And peace?
She is my sister, though I don’t know her name.
May her dreams hum with harmony until at last her ancient troubles
Drum the new day,
And then as despair meets dawn,
even then, would you trace the phrase of her stretch-yawn-stretch
with your smile?
and would your hope-kissed lyrics linger the morn
on her lips?
For she is my sister,
and You know her name.
~ by Pamela Mytroen
Thanks, Pamela. Too often we take our freedom for granted and forget about those living in the midst of war.
ReplyDeletePam, this is lovely and poignant... with the images on television and the sorrow in our hearts, may our prayers be like yours...
ReplyDeleteIt's too easy to turn of the pictures of world suffering. But I pray the pain we feel is somehow sharing their pain.
ReplyDeleteAnd it's a reminder that often we can do something, however little. That way we can also share in their restoration.
Beautiful poem, Pam and comforting. I love these lines:
ReplyDelete"would you chase the dirge from her darkness;
breathe quiet into her night?"
because even I sometimes have a dirge in my darkness, often without good reason. How much more the woman who lives in the middle of war or sickness or hunger.
Thank you everyone for stopping by for a visit! It's nice to get re-connected to Inscribe again!
ReplyDeletePam