Kathleen Norris read the following poem the first night of the Image conference; a poem which startled and soothed me as they are words that could fall from my confessing lips one maternal night of the future, or now....... Sometimes my yet-born children seem alive, and my heart whispers kindred sentiments for reasons I will not elucidate except to our Lord of redemption.
Prayer for My Children by Kate Daniels
I regret nothing.
My cruelties, my betrayals
of others I once thought
I loved. All the unlived
years, the unwritten
poems, the wasted nights
spent weeping and drinking.
No, I regret nothing
because what I've lived
has led me here, to this room
with its marvelous riches,
its simple wealth —
these three heads shining
beneath the Japanese lamp, laboring
over crayons and paper.
These three who love me
exactly as I am, precisely
at the center of my ill-built being.
Who rear up eagerly when I enter,
and fall down weeping when I leave.
Whose eyes are my eyes.
Hair, my hair.
Whose bodies I cover
with kisses and blankets.
Whose first meal was my own body.
Whose last, please God, I will not live
to serve, or share.
P.S. ~ "To the childless wife God gives a home and gladdens her heart with children." ~ Psalm 113:9
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