Wednesday, February 17, 2021

Lent Writing 2021 - #1 - CONVERSATION WITH THE DIVINE TAILOR AT THE FIRST RESURRECTION


Conversation with the Divine Tailor at the First Resurrection

 

“Leave it,” he said,

when the Tailor finally got to his hands.

The blood had been washed away from his forehead -

gentle, feminine, human hands worked herbs into linen,

wet with tears,

stroked across his silent chest,

dabbed the dried blood from his scissored side

leaving the minty scent of hyssop in his hair.


The Tailor did the rest,

changed it one wound at a time, 

making new the jagged flesh -

scrubbing, stitching, polishing and bronzing 

so quickly it appeared to have happened all at once

because time was no longer a matter of measurement, 

though, for the sake of the earthlings, 

(who still used such tokens in their story making)

they agreed to count up to three.

 

“Let’s make you new again,” the Tailor said, 

pleased to be able, finally, to use the skills he’d been honing.

 

“Leave those,” he whispered again,

when he got to his hands.

 

The scars remain,

so I am told, 

even though the rest of the body is reclaimed as new.

He wears them, perhaps,

the way I wear that pin on my lapel

each Mother’s day.

I stab it through the fibers of my blouse and seal it shut,

silently telling everyone at church,

as if they didn’t know by the crushed Cheerios around my feet,

and the scent of a spent diaper against my hip,

that I am Mother.

 

I used to think he kept those scars to prove who he is,

and what he did.

But maybe he just wants to remember, 

for sentimental reasons,

that time when he was known to us,

and shown to us,

(the ones who crush our sustenance around his feet)

simply as, 

Jesus.


(Today is the first day of Lent during a worldwide pandemic. It's been a year since the world began to shut down with this Pandemic. My writing, during this Lenten season, has no rhyme nor reason - much like this poem. This is a first draft. Perhaps an only draft, as my objective in Lent writing is to write fresh every day during the season of Lent.)

10 comments:

  1. I can hardly believe it is here again. It's one of my most favorite things. I love reading what you write every night. I look forward to the words crafted by you! Thanks for doing this. I hope you will never stop! Happy Lent to me!

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    1. Thank you, Susan. I love anything that connects us.

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  2. Beautiful! It’s been a long time since I’ve read a Cori Connors poem! I love this imagery of the healing process and the moment of decision when Christ deliberately chose not to erase the scars associated with His greatest sacrifice and greatest pain. I love this invitation consider the multifaceted reasons why He chose to do that, and what those scars mean to Him rather than just thinking about what purpose those scars have for us. This personalizes Christ in such a beautiful way and makes Him and His thought processes accessible in a way I hadn’t really thought of before. Why have I never really thought of Christ’s psychological and mental/emotional needs (beyond my inadequate attempts to understand his emotional pain during the atonement)? Why have I never though about how the memory of His atonement must stay with him? This is really beautiful, Mom!

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    1. Thank you, MyGate. Thank you for knowing me, in all my iterations, and loving me through each of them. You are a blessed encourager and I thank the Lord for you!

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  3. Thank you once again Cori for a perspective that joins together heaven and earth and for bringing our focus to what truly matters❤️

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  4. Beautifully said, as usual. So proud to say you are my almost relative. 💖

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