Mother to Son

Mother to Son

As I hold you now,

your tender newness warm against my breast,

I cherish this small stable where we rest,

and the solitude of the night.

As your tiny fingers, so perfect,

curl around my own,

I scarce can bear the joy.

My tears fall gently down

to wash your sleeping brow.

I kiss them quietly away

and think, with just a wisp of sadness,

that tomorrow

the world will know your name.

Angels will herald you with golden trump,

while Heavenly Choirs resound

from mountain top

to lonely shepherd's ground.

Tomorrow--

you will be our King--

a Savior to a world thirsting

for what is yours to offer.

Tomorrow--

wise and learned men

will bow on bended knee

before you little one

and honor you with wealth untold.

All people, from the humblest

to the highest born, will speak your name

in awesome whipser.

But that is tomorrow, my sweet son.

Tonight,

with your velvet cheek

soft against my own,

with your tiny body

nestled in my arms,

I can know you're mine,

my son.