It is the fourth week of Advent; may we remember children and their parents, they are and always have been the best hope the world knows.
The child was made
with breath & whispers; the warm tones of flesh
in a rose-colored flush, the red of blood.
The child, made in an embrace,
was hope & like light
the child nurtured us.
Waiting, we conceived the brightest dreams.
Born in struggle, blood & water the child was
beautiful; perfect,
slender; tangled limbs & wailing life.
The child was washed & held.
In the child’s eyes, life;
the wealth of the world where things were new.
Never again would we wish
to see blood on you & wailing, cradle you
seeking life in the child’s eyes.
Though for family there is nothing we would not do.
It will be years before the child knows
the names of flowers & their season;
that what is shattered cannot always be restored.
& years more before the child knows
it remade our world
& that again, in all children,
the world is made
in breath & whispers, Love & the flush of blood,
an embrace where hope is new.
--KC Crain blogs at www.georgecrain.com
No comments:
Post a Comment