Written on 4th September, 2025 for the international poetry contest "WA Gentle Hand" sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose. Placement 2nd.
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God’s hands are softer than the snowflake.
His tender touch feels like falling dew,
blown by a gentle breeze~
Soothing as a whisper on the ear,
a feather-stroke that lulls us to sleep
as babies.
As it was in our cots,
His tender touch still cares—
a guiding light for our feet
against the serpent’s bite.
And when troubles torment,
He calms us with His soothing balm,
brushing our faces
until they sparkle with peace.
From infant cradles
to the courts of adulthood’s scorn,
His tender care endures.
He pours His grace
in the warmth of a prodigious embrace.
Though He has filled our lives
to the brim with His care,
His magnificence remains more vast
than the waters of the oceans.
Nothing compares to God’s tender touch:
refining us like the sunbeam’s glow
through the hands of a gentle potter,
flowing like the river’s nourishing stream,
to protect, to guide, to guard, to restore
our fragile souls.
Infants begin
with closed fists—
white and red,
like the sun
about to rise.
They grow,
thumb resting in their mouth,
fingers curling around
the saree’s edge of the mother,
the sacred thread of the father—
building a small,
secure world.
A few months later,
with tiny movements,
gentle manners,
they reach for toys—
holding them close,
day and night,
whispering in their own language,
never alone.
A soft toy becomes a world.
Sometimes it is a spoon,
a cup,
a tumbler—
clutched for years
as a secret friend.
Sometimes a locket,
a ring,
a bracelet—
shining with unseen magic.
And now,
Doraemon walks beside them,
on TV,
on mobiles,
everywhere they go.
These bonds,
woven with innocence,
give strength,
bring laughter,
carry a quiet promise—
that joy will stay,
and life will be kind.
parent’s strong arms
cradle young life, infant
smiles and gurgles
One we were tiny babies
resembling infant Jesus;
Mary's graceful smile illuminated
his joyful face that angels adored!
And this heavenly child wrapped
in humble linens was prophesized
to be a supreme king over people and nations;
Erode feared Him from birth: he killed all babies!
Love these tiny babies
resembling infant Jesus;
cuddle them, admire their innocence:
they're the sight of pure blissfulness!
Many are loved by mothers with a gentle tone,
others are cruelly abandoned on church's steps
to become those orphans crying alone:
find then a home, spare them loneliness!
Hugo was a huge hurricane in Carolina
Unfortunately I was homeless then
Right then God being the designer
Red shelter found with kind garbage man
I had a three month old baby boy
Cherry cries for he felt my fear
Angels seem to fill amber void
Needing grace God kept us near
Embrace of His hand so dear
Ode for a Fortunate Infant
Newborn:
Smacked and
Screaming —
Hardly more than a new fact,
A statistic
Already forgetting
The crush into Becoming.
This “tabula rasa,”
Kicking and flailing,
Not yet swaddled or cradled,
Held only by Fate
In the first minutes of Destiny
(unformed and waiting)
With a heart
Needing to be embracd
By more than just touch,
But blessed to completely feel
The warmth of Acceptance
That founds a first sense
Of Identity as being a Self
Here linked with Others…
For the first lessons of Love —
Swaddled in belonging
Wrapped with thanksgiving.
(c) s.y.eslnger 5/24/2024
Thanks be to God…
Grief
Trauma and loss, a child has died
That never goes away …don't even try
It's in every room,every breath,every step you take
When Your asleep and when your awake
Sometimes it is sneaky
It will hide behind doors
Or inside old boxes you never opened before
A smell of formula still clings to his shirt
An old pacifier covered in dust and in dirt
Griefs’ favorite place to hide and surprise?
when you go to bed and just close your eyes
His face will appear,the smile he wore
For just a few weeks,a few weeks before
Or in dreams he cries and you look and listen but he's never there… you just missed him.
It's in your husband's face,the look in his eye, when you believe it's your fault he died
Never spoken out loud or even whispered but you see in their eyes,such guilt that look stirs
Those days are misty… like fog over the lake
It hides in there too just waiting to break
For it blows the fog away when you least expect it and pieces are revealed, bit by bit…it's cruel and its vicious this grief and this pain
And I'll never live a day without it again.
I be but as an infant
In knowledge, skill and grace.
Strap me to your heart, O Lord,
As tenderly as does a mother
With her fragile newborn child.
Thank you for giving me life
Yet so sorry for abandoning me.
The life I battled for and won
To acquire life but of a rational one,
The first glance and glare
From thy fluffy lap, i longed to zoom the world.
Where is thy lap I longed for?
The plastics as cold as icy snow,
Is it the lap of all mothers?
I cried, tears flowed and dried,
Whose hand come to lullaby me?
Whose shining hands I expected,
Dear mother, it's you I expected
Yet you chose to let me lament,
The world is but so cold and bare
Where detention is forcibly imposed
For crimes I never committed.
A pair of dark crystals gaze
in a sea of white innocence
The bright light's a wisdom ablaze
Unlike anything in the dark familiar
Five laces of warmth enclose
mine like red petals of rose
And the silk of air flutters with life
There is another heart to caress and guide
Suddenly the ticking is loud
Every moment takes time to feel proud
For none gets closer to man's fragility
Than seeing a new form begin to breathe
'It's a boy' a voice quivers -
The voice of a tearful mother
She's thrilled to have another call her 'mother' at nights
She's come past a history of five lives' demise
So I cradle very gently
Could cotten feel too coarse?
Even a light form becomes heavy
When he makes a girl feel less alone
'Welcome, little cousin'
I whispered in his ear
In return he just grinned
before it all disappeared
One day he will know,
how to smile and what it means
For there are several dozen folks
Who will call themselves his family!
baby
precious infant
loving couple's blessing
wild, intense, unmatched ecstasy
newborn
Let me come,
In this world,
Don’t kill me,
Before taking birth.
No one feels my suffering,
No one feels my pain,
Even after this much cruelty,
I can’t give you a bane.
Who gave you the right,
Of snatching my breath?
Without any reason,
Why I face this unusual death?
My heart cries for mercy,
And soul shouts for redemption,
Just take a pause,
For listening my emotion.
Pleasure is my enemy,
Bad luck is my mate,
Nothing can be painful,
More than my fate.
Someone, please, tell me,
What is my error?
Why you give me suffering?
When I need your favor.
When he was Infant Bob
Often had had to sob
For a freely shared cob…
As Grown-Up Wrangling Bob
Angrily yanked off knob
After a half paid job…
Now Climaxed Adult Bob
Would at friends spit a gob,
Each time he missed a mob
That folks attacked to rob,
The lot shutting their gob,
Since they’d dared forget Bob…
Same Bob at each level
His one guide: The Devil.
triplet infants in their bed
asleep together
cuddled like birds in a nest
limbs wrapped around each other
beneath a quilted blanket
they warmth their wee bods
silently breathing
awakening together
time to change all their diapers
lunar light looms large
lounges in luminous sky ~
infant wings’ first leap
(August Full Moon – Cree)
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