You Spoke My Name
by Kristi Clark
YOU SPOKE MY NAME
I.
I ran
through the garden,
and I hid myself
in shame—
I tried to
cover up my falling short
under flimsy excuses
that only tore
like leaves
and left me
more exposed.
But
like sunlight
seeping through
the dappled shade
your soft and searching voice
drew me out
to meet your gaze.
And as
you saw me
bruised and wilted
in my sin,
you clothed me
with your sacrifice
and gently spoke my name:
“Eve.”
II.
I wandered
through the garden,
and I hid myself
in grief—
I tried to
fight back despair
that tore
my soul
like demon thorns,
and old wounds
once healed
now bled anew.
But
like a sweet rose fragrance
in the air
your strong and calming voice
reached through the pain
and stilled the storm
inside.
And as
you touched me
with your wounded hand,
you made my heart bloom
afresh
and gently spoke my name:
“Mary.”
III.
I stumbled
through the garden
and I hid myself
in pain—
I tried to
muster up the strength
to go on
a few steps further,
but life’s battles tore
my failing heart
and faltering hope
to tattered shreds
around my aching feet.
But
like a victorious trumpet call
your clear and joyful voice
sounded through the clouds
and lifted up
my weary head.
And as
you drew me in
through the open gates
of Paradise,
you wiped away my tears
and pain
and gently spoke my name:
“Daughter.”
KRISTI CLARK
Kristi Clark dreams of being a hermit book-hoarder in another life, but is somehow still discovering the wildness of God in her right where she is, amid the beautiful mess of real life in a fixer-upper in southern Maine with her husband and two boys. (She still, however, hoards books.) Her writing has been featured by Coffee + Crumbs, The Valley Blog, and is forthcoming in Truly Co. magazine. You can find snippets of her writing and photography on Instagram at @pine_and_tide and more of her current poetry on Substack at kristiclark.substack.com.