THE SPIRIT WILL NOT DESCEND WITHOUT A
SONG *
By Shirley Ruth Tweed
"For my daughter
Sarah Rainbow
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.