A Song For My Beloveds

A Song For My Beloveds

To my nephew – Demilade

Child, Life comes in single pieces and various flavors.

 

The afternoon you were born,

The hospital tried to know what your original weight was;

They put you on one arm of the scale

And counterbalanced it with a heavy chest

Filled with golds, diamonds and all the gems known to man:

And they saw, like I always knew –

That you were worth more than them all!

 

At the Nursery, the babies are wrapped in swaddling clothes

While they sleep easy in small cots;

We imagined that the simple clothes did not fit you,

There was a Wrap of Glory and Greatness that was your Afterbirth

Coming in your wake –

And we wrapped it about you instead, and saw how better it suited you.

 

New born babes stare with wide-eyed guilelessness,

Still glowing from the inside with the remnants of heaven’s beauty;

But days later, that glow dims

As earth’s gloom embraces them tighter.

And you were a little resister,

coming here not just with a glow,

but also with a spark.

So, when earth tried to dim your glow

You’d shudder, let loose a howl,

And spark a bolt of heavenly light in yourself:

That was why in those early days, you cried so much,

As you perfected this act, of never letting your light go out!

 

To Aanu – my Sister-In-Law

Your feet has set it’s path through the road of Love

 

You have found a new land,

in the old Country of Marriage

And today, you leave for there

Take care, sister, to let Trust be your compass

And lead you through the treacherous roads

Bring Joy along – as a companion for the flaky weather there

It can get stormy without warning, you know.

Old clothes will not do, make an attire of Love;

Wear it on your body, drape it over your heart.

It is the strongest protector from the cold, long days there.

Your hands, quick and nimble, will find purpose there,

To duty, To desire, To tend!

 

 

I know the crosses you have borne,

The lashes disappointment has laid on your back

And every tear you shed on this fallow earth

Was rich in the pain that made God worry

So you should understand why He could not sit still and watch

And how He sprinkled this new land with the Manna of fruitfulness.

Pick a handful of this soil, and say a prayer

Watch the buds of grief transform into what every wife wishes –

A child to care for, then another, then another, and another…

You will be the one, your quiver full, to shout: Enough!

 

 



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