Poem February 9, 1974 Issue

TO KNOW

Sydney C. Swire

I jounce my baby son on my knee
And think of another mother,
One I never met, whom I am learning to know
Because all mothers know each other.
I pray to know my son
As truly
As she knew hers.

A baby is a promise. Hers was a promise to the world.
Prophets had known him centuries before she did.
Shepherds—wise men—kings—he was their promise too.
And she knew it.
She watched the promise
And she knew when it was time
For him
To leave
Her home.
At twelve he had conversed in the temple.
In his manhood he changed the world.
At the wedding she was the one who told him,
"They have no wine."
She realized it was time
For the promise
To come true.

To love enough not to grasp:
She loved him and Him so much
That I never think of him as her son.
Did she?

I must learn to know the child on my knee is ever God's
Just as I am
As he was
As she was.
To know that, the mother love knows the Mother love.
Her prayer for that child I do not know.
My prayer for this child: that he know how to follow him.

To follow
And rejoice.

Sydney C. Swire

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