Tanner Annunciation
She waits with her hands clasped
and one toe peeking out
beneath the hem of her robe,
as the angel arrives.
The angel arrives, glides
in with golden precision,
illumines the dusky
corners of the room with light.
It is night, and she must decide
to hear what ears cannot
believe and see what eyes
can barely see. Hands clasped,
eyes open, she waits for
the voice that speaks her future
into being with just a few
small words. One small
response is all she needs
to make in this moment.
It is enough and more
for the world to come.
It is risk and dare, leap
and live, room for God,
space for love, in a crowded
space and time that makes
little room. She waits,
hands clasped, eyes opening,
for the light to leave once
the job is done, but the light
stays with her still.
~EMP
2 comments:
Ooh, really nice. I especially like the ending. I wasn't familiar with that painting, but it's lovely, and your poem does it justice!
Thanks, Erin! I wrote this such a long time ago. I see things in it now that I'm tempted to change (to try to make it a better poem) but on the other hand, it's been "set" like this for such a long time, I feel hesitant about revising.
It's a beautiful painting. The original is in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, near where D. and I used to live. That's where we first saw it and fell in love with it many years ago. We have a framed poster print of it in our living room, and I've spent much time contemplating it over the years!
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