Thursday, April 14, 2005

Holding in Prayer

Spencer stretches,
accepting love,
long limbed,
arms round my neck,
feet past my knee.
Gives butterfly kisses.

Rachael sits by my side,
practicing grown-up independence,
then clings coyly
and hides her head
at the hint of strangers.

Robbie smiles at his Papa’s voice.
He’d let us hold his babyself all day.
Sometimes we do.

Other children. Other times.
My own children when they were young,
growing in my heart.
The special ones I lift from a distance,
offering a surrogate mother’s prayers.

Jude who died.
Kaitlyn with leukemia.
Healthy Matthew,
tucked under a paternal arm.
And Audrey,
named for a Nana gone to heaven.

My own mother holds the infants
becoming once more herself,
nurturing generations.
Time doesn’t matter, nor language, nor infirmity.
Later, she falls asleep
like a child herself,
in my arms
on her narrow bed.
She stirs and wakens slowly
as if we had forever.
One day, we will.

Shall we hold each other in Godspace,
kindred and friend,
in God’s place?
Shall we gentle all little children with our prayers?


anj said...

Oh - I hope so, yes, I hope so.

steph said...

I echo Anj's words, yes, I hope so, I want to.

Jim said...

I think I have found another permanent addition to my favorites. Your poetry is beautiful, but leave me wondering if perhaps you work with children. Your profile tells me little, but I do note we share a kindred spirit in authors. Good to make your acquaintance, ma'am......

Candy said...

I just found you. I came from a comment you posted on my blog (thank you)which I just saw today. I love this place, Dawsonwood. I will be back.

Deb said...

Your words and thoughts are beautiful Connie. I too hope we can do as you've suggested.

rudy said...

wonderful, connie

Kathryn Ballantine said...

wow aunt connie... it's not often that poetry speaks to me like that. And like the others who have posted comments.. i do hope so.

LB said...

A tender expression of wise warmhearted love. Only one who has known pain on account of nuturing love in others could write such things.