THE SPIRIT WILL NOT DESCEND WITHOUT A SONG *

By Shirley Ruth Tweed

 

"For my daughter Sarah Rainbow Phoenix."

 

How do we find our way home?

Her eyes are sightless. Sounds of the world are dim.

Arms and legs are restless. Fever burns her brain.

She sweats profusely, then cools again.

Blue begins to color her, as heart slows down.

(Struggling to comfort: fresh sheets and a gown.)

 

Suddenly she's clear and calm, recognizes faces.

Then a tear falls down her cheek, as that moment passes.

Pauses in her breathing, small eternities,

rattle us with silence. There is no ease.

She refuses morphine by a turn of her head,

choosing longer moments of awareness instead.

 

An echo lingers of the songs she sings

 

"Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;

the darkness deepens; Lord with me abide!

When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

help of the helpless, oh abide with me."

 

Soft the sun strikes crystals as it shatters night

through the eastern windows, painting rainbows bright.

They're her chosen symbol falling on her bed.

We watch these miracles surround her head.

Few there are of covenants between God and Earth.

She named herself a rainbow as her bridge to birth.

 

Like a bride in satin gown resting on her bed,

we cover her with garlands. A child wreathes her head.

We bow to the Spirit, the eternal promised one

who cares for the thief as he would for his son:

"Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me home,

let me stand. When my light is almost gone..." lead me on.

 

* African song at the time of death, invoking the Spirit to take the loved one

home.