As I research my family's story, I'm struck by the rate of infant mortality. I don't believe frequency diminishes grief, then or now.
A Psalm of Resurrection
Glory be to the maker
of all things
who imagines
beating hearts and fluttering
eyes, who knits together sets
of fingers and toes.
The Creator knows the soul
even before his mother
and places him gently in her
womb.
Hallelujah for the one
acquainted with sorrow
who despises death and hears
my cries as I beg
for mercy.
The Friend who wept
now gathers my tears and knows
their number.
Praise to the Almighty
for His return
to wake the sleeping, raise
the dead, and make all things
new.
The Redeemer who knows my brokenness
will heal my ache
and make us
whole again.