THE UNVEILING

Why did I weep, for I knew not the child,
Nor his parents before this day?
Welcomed I was, but still a stranger
And, worse, a looker on.
Was it the singing, sung from the heart
Not from the tight lipped mouth,
That moved me,
A last lullaby for a lasting sleep?
Or the flowers, chosen from gardens,
Transmitting love from the living
Through arms that had not forgotten
How to hold a child?
Was it the sobbing of someone close behind me?
A faceless grief it was,
But mirrored on every face
Was the grief of one.
The mountain raised its cloud veil of tears,
And I looked at my own little one
As he played, unconcerned, in the dirt,
At the feet of the old women.
The wind from the sea caressed his fair head
And whispered an answer,
Here is the universal love
Of a mother for her son.

Wendy Chisholm