Life’s first embrace
within the mother’s fluid warmth,
compact and swaddled
near to her heart’s pounding love.

Til space confined
would not suffice to hold
the softest milky flesh
and neediest of nurture’s love.

Thrust into chill
and vulnerable exposure
with wailing and flailing
until the pulsing love lay near.

Swathed in woven cloth
life tugs at you,
to pull you from her arms tho
never to extract you from her heart.

If space or death should separate
search for that love’s pulse
in God’s pleasures that soothe
and generosity of His grace,

withstanding any trial
by holding to the strongest cord
that traces always back in time
to soothing voice and fluid warmth of love.

©robin, 2013


About found4sure

I like to write. I think too much!
This entry was posted in Family, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Bound

  1. FlutePlayer says:

    HeartChordedly felt.

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