When the Dark Night Lifts–Reflections after a Post-Partum Depression


This Room

This room, this room, here in this room,

     so silent and serene

I sit with babe upon my knee

     and glance across the scene.

This sweet and humble living room

    where little children play

Could this have been the place of pain

     where passed so many days?

Where sleepless nights and painful days

     and fears had me beseiged–

Where tender youth met loss and fear

     and what it was to grieve,

Where alone I stood to battle,

     where loss grew more and more

And shame and uselessness and strain

      were all the arms I bore.

Oh yes, this was the place indeed

     where crawling on my knees

On sleepless nights when life grew long

     and lifted up my plea

“Have mercy, Lord, upon me,

      tend to me with all your care

You who never will forsake–

    please this heavy burden bear!”

And He was there each morning

     with new mercies all for me–

My manna from My Father

     never did I not receive.

My shepherd held me tenderly

     as from my life was shorn

All my dreams and loves, envy and pride,

     the blooms and all the thorns.

Yet with great possessions He led me out–

     a new way for to find

Where bondages of guilt and fear

     would less and less me bind.

And now I’ve crossed that angry sea

     and stand upon the shore

In a better land where now I rest from

     burdens that I bore.

Oh, this room if only now

     Your quiet walls could speak

Of the prayers and tears and blessings

     and the Shepherd’s tender reach

That found me here and not too small

     for His riches to enjoy

This room, this room, this tomb of pain

    And womb of all my joy.

Elizabeth Hiett– March 3rd, 2002

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