Poems

I know not how, dear Lady love,

To offer you my praise,

I cannot fashion as I wish

The words that I world raise.

You stand afar, celestial Queen,

The stars are in your crown,

They spangle at each gesture's path

And dust upon your gown.

Perhaps I might recall the night

You knelt beside the crib,

The night when doors and casements shut

And left a mountain's rib,

Alone, exposed, to hoard you close

Beside the new-born Child

And seek in Joseph's kindly eyes

For something worldly-mild.

To counteract such mundane chill

I hereby set my heart,

Dim mirror of an Infant's warmth,

Its flaming but a part,

A small, sad part of Endless Love

That came on Christmas day

To show a mother wonder-bright

To guide us on our way.

It is a tender grasping little fist

that wraps her finger mightily that day,

so small and warm, holding tightly on ...

timely bond of mother with newborn life.

This mother's love is ageless, a sweet kiss

on a son's cuddled, moist head her way

...discovering a gift of love upon

a red birthing mat in that darkened cave.

I He's a gift of light from God...of touching,

a truth divinely lent as she nurses,

creation's miracle always spinning

at fresh moments of eternal birthing.

So fondly in a brief glimpse of clutching,

the infinite bubbles out. And curses

of darkness, cold separation in winds

of loneliness from God, are bathing

in the midwife's washing pool

which thrusts her child, like a fool

into frigid water of our days

soon surely swirling with the Spirit's warmth.

Can we remember what the prophet says?

We forget. Forget ...As the mother's breast

spills calming milk into his rooting mouth,

we hope for God's strength in the coming test.

She smiles. Timeless little one gurgles.

Through that door of hope, a door ajar,

Life forms creation's gentle realm of flesh,

enlightening the mother's waiting heart,