Cradled
Son, if my breath were mine to give.
If I had more than a ragged few
to welcome and say goodbye to you.
If we knew your mother could only live
with this choice. Go in peace
I sing, and He has sent you here,
then come Himself achingly near.
His hand on my shoulder, I release
you with my blessing and my name.
How, from so slight a father’s touch
can I miss you, miss Him, this much?
Was He homesick too when the same
call to save sent His son away?
Hush little baby, and your heart
stops racing, stops. We start
life over: His breath into our clay.
Kevin Klein is an elementary teacher and writer from Orem, Utah. He has published a picture book about the First Vision as well as LDS-themed poetry in Irreantum, Dialogue, and BYU Studies. His wife and two kids (now teenagers) are, among other things, his favorite sources of inspiration and feedback.
About the poem
►A few years ago, my cousin’s wife was having severe complications with her pregnancy at about 20 weeks, and they were faced with the unimaginable decision to either continue the pregnancy and risk her health or have the baby delivered, knowing it wouldn’t live. They chose to have the baby delivered. As he held his son for those few minutes of life, my cousin sang him some Primary songs and lullabies and gave him a name and blessing. As I worked on this poem for my cousin and his wife, I was struck by the similarity between their situation and Heavenly Father’s willingness to subject his son to such pain, heartbreak, and risk.
