Prophetic Endurance

Camelopardalis

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a poem by Emily Isaacson (2015)

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I set out as a healer,

to make women strong

as the giraffe dancing in the desert

beneath the iron light of Africa,

where the midnight tribes

search for the light of constellations

to guide their way. I evoked a medicine

that would not wane and would not leave.

It buffered the starvation of the poor

with the alkalinity of a plant-based constitution,

all with the silk of white baking soda.

 

What was my constitution?

Bright, and glorious as a warrior in arms;

radiant and celebrated for a medium and a cure.

My modality of the natural earth, and its healing

was eminent, resounding

on the waves of mental anguish,

retribution to the wounded generation

that refused to hold on and jumped,

blinded by the architecture of the famous and noble,

their characters dishonored—

not the womanhood I used to know.

 

--Emily Isaacson, A Familiar Shore

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Waiting for Jesus.

Listening to the Holy Spirit.

Urged to act by power not our own.

Hold your hands out.

Keep your candle lit.  

Worship every day.

Pray for others.