My name is Heather
My name was, for a short pure spurt:
springtime
beholder of mystery
faithful, wise, creative, truth-teller
zealous leader
joyful, beautiful blessing
wet feet
Moses, a pure child sensing his purpose
“Heather” simply meant purple hills in a faraway land.
Then, like a sled on a lame hill, I slid slowly down, down, down until my name became:
impulse
flaunt
parade float
loud little dog
the carrot on the party tray who would never be a strawberry
Moses killing the Egyptian- reasoning, striving and wrong
“Heather” meant the flower that takes over the whole hill like an egotistical brat.
Then, like a frog tricked into the stove pot, I came slowly to a boil until my name became:
silent bird
blown dandelion
lonely boat
clam
spill
mumble
Moses, alone, driven into the desert
“Heather” meant tough shrub on remote wind-blown hillsides, never sold in flower shops.
Then, like a rubber ball thrown from a height, I bounced up, up, up until my name became:
hard-sought treasure
beautiful one
pond filling to full
ripe poppy bursting
beholder of mystery
beheld by the maker
Moses, hidden in the cleft of the mountain, waiting in the tent
“Heather” means flowering branches long used to make roof thatch to protect and mattresses to comfort.
Now, like a stone bridge being rebuilt after a flood, my name is becoming:
oak
lioness
buttress
funnel
watchman
deep well
inkwell
faithful, wise, creative, truth-teller
zealous leader
joyful, beautiful blessing
Moses following the pillar of cloud, leading the travelers
“Heather” will mean flowering branches long used to make teas to heal and brooms to sweep clean.
Written and read for a testimony given in September 2022.
