The Bond That Does Not Break
This child we have created
blinks at us, her doe-eyes,
large and round, clear
irises the color of the tiny span
of moments, all guarded and lovely,
all she knows of unblemished breath.
Her cries, even the smallest whimpers,
pluck strings in us we guessed
but did not know would blossom,
strong as steel, alert as Spidey senses,
the bonds for which we would count
as nothing the very marrow in our bones
if the sacrifice meant her smile
shining in this sphere just one more hour.
The Spirit, the gift He gave which never leaves us,
will be our Comforter, these days, when the horrors
blaring in unending bytes of binary code
and high-definition streams leave us
aching and wordless, our baby’s world
stretching before us in a scary unknowing
that has been since the beginning
in this fallen place.
We huddle above her crib,
pull the blankets snuggly to her chin,
and return her trusting stare with eyes
full of undeliverable promises,
all we have to offer.
April 15, 2013