Motherhood: a motherly love.

I’m enamored with this tiny life God gave,
With every inch of my heart
And every chamber engraved.

With him comes a different facet of love,
One I’ve never felt before,
I love him, I love him, the little dove.

My son, the sweet apple of my eye,
The rest of my life, I wouldn’t deny
That he’s lit an ever-burning fire inside.

My choices like romantic love,
No where to be seen,
I have no choice in the matter at all, actually.

His face and his hands and his toes and his breath,
All ring of Christ’s grace and His life and His death.

My heart is amazed
In all wonder and praise,
For a desire so strong to well up inside,
That I truly never knew existed til this little guy.

My face in the mirror, I don’t recognize,
There’s a grace and a beauty,
That I didn’t comprise.
No makeup, no curls, no clothing or pearls,
Could mimic the glow of this mother’s guise.

Like a student in learning,
The potter’s hands remold my pride and my clout,
My open flesh yearning, far from any doubt.

Children embody faith in the palms of their hands,
Trusting our knowledge and never doubting God’s plans.

One day they will see,
through a bend at their knees,
That God etches desires on the hearts of men,
And fulfills them one hundred times over again.


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