Monday, 3 April 2017



This piece is ideally read by women from different generations.

As a girl, I nursed a doll.
It was made of homespun,
stuffed with sawdust.
We wondered at the world.
You may say my world was small,
But it contained plenty of hopes.
My doll and I -
We made dreams together.

As a maid, I nursed my broom.
I pushed and I flung it
at the corners of my world.
I wondered when the corners
would be those of my own.
But the place where I dwelt
contained my story of kin.
We made our name together.

As a woman, I nursed my home.
It suckled at my breast
entreating me to define the world.
My household looked to my definition
Of how we would understand the world.
But my hearth welcomed
Promises yet to come.
We prayed our longing together.
As I’ve aged, now full of years,
I wondered what was still left for me to do.
What still calls me in this world?
What glory waits for my attention?
I have seen disintegration of social fabric.
But occupied Jerusalem begs relief,
Messiah promised for us all.
We wait with expectation.

As a prophet, here I see
salvation in a newborn child.

(Luke 2:36-38)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for visiting, I look forward to hearing from you.
When making a comment, please remember this is a site frequented by young people and those who may not be up with your jargon.