Gomer

Gomer

Sara Kyoungah White

When morning breaks, beneath the sheets, the wound–
A dehiscence erupted, seeping blood;
A crimson pattern on the white, full-bloomed,
And where the pruned end should be, a bud.

How many times can I detect a beat?
Why not the cell–why bring me to a room?
Your eyes are wet as I rise to my feet,
The journey far with children in my womb.

When I was young, I heard the rumors told
Of rock made flesh, sand dunes turned arable.
I hear you call my name–the one of old–
This beggar weeps to hear the parable.

Transform my bracken heart to fallow ground,
Awash with rain, and round you tightly wound.

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Sara Kyoungah White
Editor & Writer

Sara is an emerging nonfiction writer and poet whose work has been published or is forthcoming in Christianity Today, The Banner, and Voices. She has a BA in English literature from Cornell University and currently works as the senior editor of the Lausanne Movement.

Photography by Pawel Czerwinski