For Our Children

“The sum is greater than its parts,” or so the saying goes.
And now the two of us can see the proof as each one grows,
Distinct but similar in code, the perfect mix and match
Of you and me but with a little extra in each batch.

You gave your chromosomes, all twenty-three, and I gave mine:
That nose like yours, those eyes like mine, his humor, her hairline.
The two became one, yes it’s true, that one plus one is one,
But each of us gave more than us to daughter and to son.

For isn’t that your Uncle Bob we hear in boyish joke,
My grandma’s fingers on the keys our daughter can evoke?
A cousin’s art, your father’s songs, Aunt Margaret’s detail–
We see and hear and sense them all; our children walk their trail.

But still there’s more; it’s not heredity alone they bear,
Not just genetic predetermination that they share.
For parts of them go further than we trace from you or me,
Those aspects that can’t find a match in recent history.

Original in talent, passion, attitude, and mien,
Each child is now a prototype the world has never seen,
When Breath from Heaven orchestrated life within each cell.
Their DNA and heritage formed just the earthly shell.

Each independent spirit held within its human frame,
Loosely defined by history, by ancestry, by name.
But tighter bound to One who holds their hearts within His hand;
Creator of this family, Who had the whole thing planned.

Remember when we held them, small, in wonder and in awe
That mortal hands could hold eternal souls, so new, so raw?
We knew then as we know it now, the honor of our place,
Our sum, as parents, greater than our parts, by far, by grace.

 

Leaven, Part One

(Based on Matthew 13:33)

Transfigured from within, though I don’t know
The moment when the sponge infused the dough.
It must have happened, though, because I see
The end result, as different as can be
From flattened lump I mixed not long ago.
.
Exposure to the yeast began, first slow
‘Til I divided and commenced to throw
And knead each piece, and then to watch all three
Transfigured from within.
.
Was it the pounding, shaping, every blow
I worked into each batch that made it grow?
Or was it just the presence or degree
Of leaven in my pastry that was key
To making lifeless mass now overflow–
Transfigured from within.

Click here to read Part Two on Amy Foreman’s blog. 

 

Amy Foreman hails from the southern Arizona desert, where she homesteads with her husband and seven children.  She has enjoyed teaching both English and Music at the college level, but is now focused on home-schooling her children, gardening, farming, and writing. Her blog is theoccasionalcaesura.wordpress.com

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19 Responses

  1. Kathy F.

    Great work, particularly the first poem, which I think is brilliant!

    Reply
  4. ben grinberg

    my favorite lines:

    For isn’t that your Uncle Bob we hear in boyish joke,
    We see and hear and sense them all; our children walk their trail.

    But tighter bound to One who holds their hearts within His hand;
    Creator of this family, Who had the whole thing planned.

    That mortal hands could hold eternal souls, so new, so raw?

    Our sum, as parents, greater than our parts, by far, by grace.

    Reply
  6. David Watt

    I really enjoyed ‘For Our Children’ in particular. Well written and descriptive of a great truth in life.

    Reply
  7. Wendy Bourke

    Wonderful words beautifully rendered. I love rhyme done well – and you have nailed it.

    Reply
  9. Jack Hart

    Congratulations–I didn’t think anyone
    since the Elizabethans could make fourteeners
    actually work.
    Jack Hart

    Reply
  11. Kelli Barrett

    Hi, Amy. I love “for our children.” I also want to say that I went to school with you from elementary to graduation. My maiden name is Kelli Bragg.

    Reply
    • Amy Foreman

      How nice to hear from you, Kelli! Would love to reconnect! Check out my blog, theoccasionalcaesura.wordpress.com, if you like. It contains my contact information. Blessings to you.

      Reply

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