You reached out your hand
I gave you an onion set -
Grubby and crisp,
torn from the land.
You cradled it in your arms and
though it’s layers stung, sang a quiet lament.
Gnarled and wild, its roots tangled,
mining salt, a sweeter scent.
Dirt smeared your palms
but you held tight, singing psalms
planting it in God’s rich earth,
patiently guiding it skyward when it slid back-
And it slid so often its sprouts screamed
as the maggots came forth, split at the seams.
Some days you came with parsley
Others with meaningful song -
Teaching green shoots to dance in the wind,
bask in the Son, trust in the Father, stay strong.
Praying the roots to anchor in tight
Chasing out darkness with glorious light.
I reached out my hand
She gave me an onion set -
grubby and crisp,
torn from the land.
I cradled it in my arms and
knew just what to do -
heart fixed on the Lord,
I whispered “Jesus loves you”.
For my spiritual mother who led me to the Lord, built safe foundations and loved me when I gave her every reason not to and prayed for me relentlessly and faithfully though I have given her too many reasons to pray. I can do what I do for others, in large part because of you.
