(after Scott Erickson’s With Us – Face to Face)
Did it feel different, I wonder,
to hold the child? Could she hear
the hum of creation vibrating inside
of him, everything densely packed
into that little nucleus? Could she feel
through his skin the warmth
of all that starlight wrapped up tight
into a helix? Or was his glory
completely masked in humanity:
shrill cries, skin slippery with birth,
infinite eyes not yet opened?
