"a woman holding a mystery" by caitlin connolly
your turn.
i come unwillingly
to the fire.
i hold onto my weaknesses tightly
trying to keep them from the flame.
my hands shake
as i hold them
over my head.
i am silver
cold
heavy.
metal,
unrefined.
it's hot
and uncomfortable
in the fire
holding on to my weaknesses,
trying to save
rather than surrender them.
i close my eyes
and see orange and red through my thin lids
i breathe through the pain
and feel His hand steady me there
His silhouette imprinted.
now that my voice is quiet
i can hear His.
almost there.
i see it now,
the burden i have been carrying,
dross.
fear crinkles and disappears at it is dropped.
distrust falls from my burden
anger's heavy load rolls across the coals and sinks, smoldering.
my arms free
i stay in the fire
working on
forgiveness,
and
trust.
patience takes a long time.
He holds me
over the fire
He must stay with me
as i am created.
watching
waiting.
He holds me
through the hurt.
my burdens will not stand
the heat
of the fire.
i beg to be let out
i'm done
i do not hear His answer
through the whisper of the flame
the coals before my feet.
He stays
the silver would be ruined
taken out too soon
or too late.
He stays
through my discomfort
my pain
my refining.
and so,
finally
i surrender to the flames.
until the the dross is gone,
separating
from my most precious bits.
He waits
pulling me out
checking.
not yet
i hear the whisper now
as He
turns me this way and that.
until
finally
He sees
Himself
reflected
in
me.
a mirror.
now
He sighs
it is done.
and i leave the flames,
a creation
of the
silversmith.
a stamp,
unnecessary,
His image in mine.
Absolutely Beautiful! Love it!
Posted by: Sarah jones | August 27, 2014 at 12:52 PM
Beautiful. Perfectly captured. Genius.
Posted by: Olivia | September 03, 2014 at 11:21 AM