February 8th


Above is pain,

Below I wait, a helpless clod,

And drag with me about

A sudden disbelief in God,

In heavy links a haunting doubt,

A fettering chain.


Above is death.

While I below am quick with life.

My blood is strong and red.

And yet I cannot join that strife,

Nor yet a drop of blood can shed

To help that breath.


But what am I

To hope to interfere above?

I can but pray and wait.

And then the seal of human love,

The opening wide of heaven’s gate,

A baby’s cry!