The Widow of Zarephath

This is something different, a poem based on scripture. I used to write a lot of poetry, but it trickled off. So tell me what you think, I would love hear what you think.

The jar is almost empty.
She watches her son playing with his friends.

She pours the flour into the bowl, and then begins blending
the oil into the flour.

This would be their last meal.                                                                     

He stood at her doorway watching her stir the flour and oil together.
He called to her, “Would you bring me a little water in a
jar so I may have a drink?”

She looked up and saw the man that everyone called “Crazy.”

The Lord God speaks to him.
His black knotted hair reached his shoulders,
and bones protruded through his dark skin.
His eyes bluer than the sky.

He asked for water.
She could give him water.

“And bring me, please, a piece of bread.”
The widow stopped and clutched her almost empty jar of flour.
She had none to give him – how could he ask this of her?
He was a man of Lord God, but let the Lord take care of him?

His voice is tender.
“Don’t be afraid.”

It brought memories back of her husband.
She could still hear his voice echo in her heart.

Elijah’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“Go home and do as you have said.
But first make a small cake of bread for me
from what you have and bring it to me,
then make something for yourself and your son.”

She presses her eyes shut,
unable to keep her tears from flowing.
Part of her wanted to die, so that she could …

She looks up for sight of him,
but the man they call Elijah disappeared from her sight.

She knows he is man of the LORD,
She does not doubt.
Why does He chose to use her this way?
It is hard to give away what is precious to her.

He nods his thanks and
leaves to eat his bread and water.

She glances to back to the jar of flour,
and is surprised to see the amount of
flour that is still in the jar
and plenty of oil in the jug.