Rebecca

Wed, 09/25/2013 - 20:07 -- ccurra

Scarred lungs and earth-beaten legs
A girl - now a woman - inelegantly runs
Her head hung low, to God she begs

An ivory dress speaks of a wedding day done
The forest is there, a hiding place waits
Her song, the evergreen pines sung

Childhood friends and unforgotten days
A familiar hoot of a night owl near
With closed eyes, she continues to pray

In the foliage, a rock should appear
Her pleas unanswered, a fall she takes
At the base of a tree, the scarlet smears

It's a matter of time before she wakes
The ghostly laugh of a child
Now the glass shatters and breaks

Auburn hair, ringlets wild
Emerald eyes reflect the woods' past
Supple, tender, yet never mild

Her own tawny hair, the woman grasps
Once again, she turns her gaze to the Lord
"Dear Father, but one question I ask

What happened to the innocence that I adored?
A loss so human, I doubt I should grieve
But behold this child, for she is yours

Her cheeks, they bloom, and I do weep."
With this, she threw her head back and laughed
Acidic, sarcastic, she buried her face in her knees

Her back bowed, she now felt the gash
Blood blossomed, and she arose with a cry
The sight before her left her aghast

A creatures, so charming to whom she once uttered "goodbye"
Illuminated eyes, fur charcoal black
Her companion from the days of of fields and summer skies

For an instance, dejection, her features lacked
Arms dropped at the sinless soul's approach
She stroked the raven coat of the cat

Gleaming - she beamed - the first glimmer of hope
"Rebecca," a whisper, and she knew she'd been found
Tears -- anew -- her frame soon shook

Sighing, footsteps accompanied the sound
And she brought the animal close to her chest
If her dreams were to be stolen, she would have to be bound

"Rebecca", look at me, for you are blessed."
Before her was the man for whom she yearned
Again she brought the cat to her breast

From the Land of the Dead, he did return
And spoke of how she was a woman and not a girl
His speech soft and full of concern

Rebecca rose, still unsure of this world
But with a new conviction as she embraced
The ethereal man who shared her curls

For the last time, she turned her head to Peter's Gates
And whispered praise to God and basked in his Grace

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741