Christ, by another name, is the Father
By definition because He offers us life
And I understand the nuances of gender
Yet I cannot help thinking of His Mother
I think of the birth of my own son
His refusal to leave the comfort of the womb
And the subsequent cutting to pull him out instead
The soreness and difficulties of recovery
I think of the birth of my own daughter
The rush to the hospital and the fear of going alone
She hurried into the world
A rush of blood and fluid and pain
I think of the change in my body
The scars from stitches
The lines from stretching
The marks left forever because of new life
And I think of my brother, my Savior
His sacrifice and what it all means
The life freely given, the blood freely spilt
His love for me marked on His hands
Yes, Christ inherited all from His Parents
And I understand the significance there
I cannot help thinking of His Mother
And how well She understands me too
by A. Fogelberg
