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No. 240 Held In Their Hands

by AshLee Lindsay

My dear child, you hold such pain,
Realize we shall consecrate it for your gain,
Right now as sorrow saturates your soul,
Know like holy water, that sorrow can make thee whole,
We see the heartbreaking harmony,
Of human frailty and carnal being,
But conqueror you are,
One of our brightest fiery stars,
Your heart it feels to painful depths, a gift,
You are beloved, remember that and lift,
Unfold in living tragedy,
Become the woman we intended you to be,
My arm is held around your waist,
His hands cupped around your face,
We will hold you now and see you through,
So you can do what you were meant to do.
Overcome, bloom-in wonder and awe,
Gratitude, love, bold in your flaws,
Vulnerable with tremendous heart,
A pattern for you to never part,
Hold strong,
Sing your beautiful song,
For my lioness, you see,
An open heart allows the soul to breathe,
Even when pain steals it’s breath,
And Suffocation mimics death,
But love, His light,
Pushes out our fear of night,
Awake, arise, and gain the eyes to see,
I’m leading you to eternity.

Grayscale hands layered together, from large adult hands at the bottom to a small child's hand on the top

A friend was confronted with tragedy within her family and immediately after I asked he, what can I do?
Her prompt response, please write me a poem from Heavenly Mother to Her daughter in pain.
I had just finished reading, Untie the Strong Woman by Estes about the Immaculate Mother and The Mother in many different cultures.

In my own learning and understanding the two halves of the matrimonial promise in perfection become one in purpose as the Father and the Son.  So whether in the scriptures as I hear the prophets voice or in my life as I hear my Father and feel my Savior I have always imagined them as their perfected whole, always with the female and the male influence.  His helpmeet, in the Mother and hers in Him.

When I wrote this poem it came as all of my poetry does, a quick download where I must race with my ink to keep up.  And this poem came quickly after the request.  As I was texting my dear friend the poem, it began again and I then wrote the second half.

I imagine Mother helping in our creation, folding in all the truths we would need into our being as you would knead bread.  She gave us all and the adventure of life is in the unfolding.  Seeking as your title infers, uncovering, unfolding ourselves and the treasures they placed within our existence.  Gifts that can beautify this world and bring Heaven down to our earthly home.