There was such a stir in Heaven, the gates were lighted and the force of the Almighty was upon the cloudy ground, choirs colored the eternal arc and the smile of heavenly skies shone as a thousand suns.
There was a noisy anticipation that calmed to a gentle hush, as if the universe pressed finger to lips and asked every eye. The heavenly sounds lilting, the sky ablaze and the glow of Love came over everything and every spirit felt rejoicing.
There were no praises to God, none had ever been heard there...not since Lucifer fell, there were no songs or hymns to greatness, as breath has no need to praise the air, there were no supplications for forgiveness for it was granted to all before life had begun.
There were no prayers for each soul resided in the place where prayers were heard and answered, no thanks for gifts for anything that might be asked had aleady been received; and life was in eternal abundance.
Now there was the quiet anticipation for the woman. She who carried a purse so heavy it curved and bent her back, to give coins to the poor. Who went from church to church to sing in her soft and flawed voice, a song of a last mile of Love.
She who forgave before being asked and then forgave again, and cried tears of heart and bitter salt when telling her children about the gifts of His children. A kind and giving woman, who suffered from want so that others could have comfort.
Mothering in perilous days, she who loved her children as precious gifts of life, treasures all the more because they had been given to her, when her prayers seemed lost in the vast halls of the Throne. But most the fountains of celebration rise to her name because she held faith in every breath...filled her heart and left no room for doubt; and now comes home to her laughter...and her enduring sadness...that she did not do more.
A contest entry
- Fiction On AllPoetry? Call Me Rebel! by Yemassee.
875 points, ended October 3, 2008, 11 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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The aniticipation, the honor extended to this woman,
surely created in story form by one who knew
this woman, perhaps calling her mother
or grandmother in her earthly life.
An adventure, for the reader
to see heaven thru the eyes
of this esteemed writer.
Aesthete
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I don't know if this is the better of your two entries, I haven't decided that yet, both have their strengths and I like each for different reasons. This is however, for me, the more consistent of the two. This is more poetic, has a more compact tone, more unified. That doesn't mean I find this the better story, those were just this stories strengths for me.
A couple people mentioned Mother Theresa, and I can see, but I think there's more than one inspiration, though certainly one probably is forefront in your mind. You once mentioned something to me in a reply to a comment once and so I do have the benefit of that knowledge.
But writing doesn't have to be literal, and it rarely comes from one source, a character is rarely one person, but more likely an amalgam, that is this woman.
One small suggestion in paragraph five: "Now there was the quiet anticipation for the woman." That is the first time she is mentioned so I think "a quiet anticipation for a woman" seems more appropriate...to me, "the woman" suggests she has already been introduced. I know that's small, but there's not a lot wrong to pick at here.
Whether we view the woman as a saint, or as a flesh and blood human, doesn't matter really, the character is infused with both, implies both I think and contains qualities of both.
In the end it's a tribute to motherhood...to whatever interpretation we wish to apply to that word, Mother Theresa, Mother of Jesus, or that special mother each of us hopefully has known.
This is not going to be an easy contest to judge. There aren't a lot of entries but there are a handful I like a lot, that are all deserving of first place. I can't award them all but hopefully I've shown my appreciation and admiration for each.
Thanks for both entries, they were a pleasure to read.
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well first, trophies don't matter a lot to me, I appreciate the comment there, thanks...the small edits...they do mean a lot, is a part of growth..that meticulous sense of care that helps present the work, thank you for that. Yes, I suspect you do know the inspiration for this and what a joy it was for me to write it. To write this as fiction was appropriate, after all I dont know whether it shines as thousand suns or thousand and one......thanks for all...PK
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What a beautiful tribute to an inspiring woman. The concluding paragraph is so touching. She returns to the place she has always sought and yet there is a sadness that perhaps there was more good she could do. As the world seems to grow ever more materialistic, it is amazing that a tiny woman from an obscure country could have such an impact. Our modern saints, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, Mother Theresa, are people of peace and the true followers of Christ. "They will know you are Christians by your love." Peace, Liz
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Such a nice tribute to Mother Theresa I'm guessing. I know it's fiction but that's who was brought to mind.
Paul
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This is such a powerful story that gladdens the heart just to think that perhaps there really is a place called Heaven and that people are intrinsically good..You have such a wonderful way with words...it gives me great pleasure to read what you have written...
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This story is quite touching, you describe her with such soft images and yet show her strength. The fifth and last paragraphs are specially tender.
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