The Prophetess

“Anna, a prophetess… of a great age,…departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day. And she coming in that instant gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and spake of him to all…” Luke 2:36-38 (KJV)

A temple in the Temple is she. Steadfast yet faceless
 Like its worn stone floor, the aged woman disappears yet pulls me closer.
 Her prayers, silent but unceasing, compel me.
 She eats not. Her devotion fills me.
 She never leaves. Her eternal longing won’t let me depart.
 Spirit, spirit so divine: might thy grace fill her soul to shine?
 
 Her veined hand grabs mine; together, we pant for our Lord.
 As a couple passes their baby to a man—Simeon, she whispers—
 Light and love fill her gaze, and mine.
 Ah, this infant—it is He!
 On her knees she falls, knobby finger pointing skyward.
 Spirit, spirit so divine: might thy grace fill her soul to shine?
 
 The woman exits, joy pulsing in her ancient feet: He has come!
 Who was she? I ask.
 Prophetess Anna who awaited the Messiah, the temple-goers murmur.
 Lighting a candle, I thank God for the one who knew
 The One who saves us. 
 Spirit, spirit so divine: The Prophetess saw that child was thine.
 
 by Nancy Coombs