You are currently viewing Holding my Grandson in Advent

Holding my Grandson in Advent

The foetal curl of your spine

And your silky, floppy head

Warm in my hand.

Slate eyes blinking open, unfocused,

Onto the blur of the world,

You hiccup and yawn at the wideness of the air.


Skin tinged golden with broken blood cells,

Arms flailing,

Fingers fragile as frosted grass.


You pull your knees in close,

Remembering the womb’s tight hug,

Listening for the home sound of mother’s heartbeat.


I hold you close,

Rock you to soothe your crying,

And wonder.


How could a Creator King of the Universe