Poem

This was published in the Ensign a few years ago.

For Mary Lydia: From a Parent Left Behind
By Susan Chock Hartman


Child,
you were not born for sorrow.
I cannot even mourn for you: a few hours
beneath the stars, a name, a covenant,
a safe and shining flight across the sky.


I mourn, instead, for myself,
for my mortal fears, my pain,
for my world-weariness,
for my dark nights. But you, my child,
did not come for such grief.


Someday I shall teach you of this green earth:
of small warm animals,
of cornfields and clay,
of birds that can’t fly,
and of the fear of falling.


And though your new home is
grander, your new life
more splendid, your new world
much lighter, much warmer
than this,
I believe all will be
more beautiful
when I hold you again.