The Cradle of Life

I am made differently from you.

I have something inside of me

you do not have, and can never have

unless you hold me.

Because of that tiny cradle

of muscle and blood,

I can sing to a baby

before a baby is born

and the baby will hear me.

I am made differently from you.

There is always a place in me

waiting for new life

to take root and grow.

Eternity shines through

the belly of mortality,

the placenta of light shines,

the cord of life thickens,

and the baby begins water-dancing.

I am made differently from you.

The echo of life sings

against your heart—

memory in a bony rib.

Drawn from the earth,

before there was birth,

you slept, and dreaming I

came walking into the world

built by the Maker’s invisible hands.

I am made differently from you!

Give me a name

and you will only begin

to know me.

From me come all the living

from the beginning

until the redemption,

and every soul that sings

a life-song

rocks first in my butterfly-bones,

first in the cradle of life.

I am made differently from you.

Look into my eyes

and see the tiny reflections of yourself—

your babies in my eyes.

Even when I close my eyes,

you are still inside of me,

and life comes from life, new life, alive!—

breathing living water with an open heart,

pulsing in the rhythm of time.

Illustration by