The cross within my chest
You gave me three sons,
an inkling of the grandeur and price
You pay for loving Your children.
As they leave my door, I pray for them
to move unscathed through a world
of torment and deceit.
Suffering is prasad – they must surely
drink from that cup
but, nothing reveals so starkly
the paucity of my faith,
the cross within my chest,
as these three figures
disappearing over the horizon.
Like Joseph, I know – I’m not the Father.
Like Abraham, I’m torn between
love and trust; terror and surrender –
the intersection of such extremes
roughly joined and nailed beneath my flesh.
O child of God, teach by example.
Strong faith will inspire your sons to courage.
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