Above the Big Old White-paged Bible She Held, Though Below It
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
She did not have to breathe. Why breathe when lungs
Were lifted into visions and in trance
With Christ and God and angels? Spirit tongues
Were not required and not as if a dance
With dead souls was a competition. She
Outdid those sorts of spiritual things.
The Lord himself provided prophecy,
So why should she stoop down to lesser pings
From god knows where? She held a Bible high
Above her head and pointed to a text
She couldn’t see — and read it. Prophet’s eye
Could see though witnesses were plain perplexed.
Though small, this weakly woman, scripture’s weight
Was weightless in her holy unbound state.
~ Phillip Whidden