A lover I have yet to know.
A full womb I have yet to hold.
A life filled with sparkling laughter, and sweet words that seep into the pores of my soul.
Hands that warm my skin as it curls back from the cold harsh wind.
No hand to hold me steady, to strengthen me with silent kisses.
Sent through space and time to uplift me through life’s heavy messes.
A lover like peace, I have yet to find.
Gentle enough to see past their own desires and give life to mine.
Patient enough to not sacrifice me on their altar of shame.
Up the mountain, I climb to mourn my life and to cover another’s name.
A man-made promise and I have to be held to the flame.
To give my life to uphold his honor and name.
Seems like a blight, a twist only supposedly given to Christ.
Why no one recalls the woman that gave her life for our victory won on that ole day.
There was no ram caught in the bush, no angels outcry to spare the young lady’s life.
oh, why is the world comfortable letting woman die, young and blameless with no honorable mention or call for others to weep in memory of their lives?
They always quote women saying” Please don’t cry for me, life was bitter but life was mostly sweet.
We fought for freedom and kneeled for men.”
Why do women take on other people’s sins, taking them to their graves?
packed like a visible blood clot or dirt lodged into the nerves underneath their veins.
To be fearless, and lay down your life even though you brought joyful melodies and laughter-filled emotions of glee.
To come out singing and cheering for victory, to receive news of the needed death of thee.
I find it a little mysterious how this woman called to martyrdom is not revered for giving her life up for me.
We all recall Paul, Peter, James, and John, but who remembers the woman that dies before Jesus Christ.
Not a memorial on Mother or women’s day, a mention on the second Sunday.
To mourn her youth, virginity, life, and liberty all in 60 days.
What is life without victory and victory without life?
Today I can only consider that at the top of the mountain she found love and peace tucked into the words of her king. He welcomed her to a seat on the left side of his throne.
Asked her to give her life for her country’s peace.
The words are hardly ever spoken about Jephthah the Gileadite’s daughter.
In Judges chapter 11 ” the maidens of Isreal go every year for four days in the year, and chant dirges for the daughter of Jephthah who died a virgin.
A poem, a mournful song, or a piece of music sung in memory of the woman who was a lover of peace is all that I ask of thee.
She gave her life for the love of peace and I’ll live my life heroically as a shepherd in the flock of the prince of peace.
To the women who died for my victory, I’ll cry and mourn in your memory.
Four days isn’t enough to celebrate the women who’ve died for all of us.
The words “thank you” surely aren’t enough, but the actions of gratitude soothe the effects of this hurt.
Please hold on to my memory and remember my pains.