The stark and clenching love that washed my pain
Enthralled by newborn skin, has held me awed.
No greater force has kept me in its chain;
The finest thing I am, my claim to God.
That I could help such perfect creatures soar,
Could mold them into men of gold refined!
Majestic beings, stuff of myth and lore,
Strong and smart and good and true and kind!
Such potent love could fill a vaster womb,
Could cradle baby Earth in its embrace;
Its tears could make the desert gardens bloom
And shape the very form of time and space.
Instead it trembles inward, glowing calm:
The lucious, wondrous joy of being Mom.
Sonnets For My Sons Home |
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Sonnet 4 |
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(c)1998, Melanie Bacon