The Episcopal Church of the Heavenly Rest on 5th Avenue at 90th Street NYC
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She walked in wearing red
Tie died in blood, a crimson cloak hung from her shoulders
Hands wrung worn from prayer covered her mouth
Years of broken dreams and too many maybes had done a number on her
She crept forward scraping the almost empty barrel of belief
Her silhouette bled into a carpet running the length of the aisle
A Red Sea parting…dividing rows of cramped cherry stained pews.
I was there. It was hard to tell where she ended. Where it began.
Her movement, one with the hushed rhythms of silence in a sanctuary
She seemed to float. Suspended. An apparition.
Her desperation filled the room with longing.
I wanted, we all wanted to see her made new.
Was it shawl or shield, camouflage or armor
I couldn’t tell. It both freed and bound.
Disillusionment will do that.
The frayed stitches of a scarlet letter emblazoned at her breast clung to her like a broken promise.
It hurt.
She’d been named.
Labeled by her pain. Marked . A curse
Branded…not blessed.
It smothered her faith, choked her spirit… until she had nothing to say.
Except this…
Open me, open me that I might be emptied.
Let me be the offering.
Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace
♥