SPIRIT TO SPIRIT
by Kenneth G. Hutchins
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Softness in the air heralds reverence for life newly come;
Tangible quiet surrounds a hundred tiny breaths of one,
Who hears whispers from the heart of his Mom.
Tender beeps from machines full of a life of their own
Reassure parent's of fragile life, so recently sown,
Who hears whispers from the heart of his Mom.
And angels come, to shelter him, with healing in their wings.
Heaven sent, to shepard and perserve him for all the things
That whispering comes from the heart of his Mom.
This is a sacred place, where life clings to slender threads,
Connecting us all to Heavenly homes and dreams unsaid,
That whispering comes from the heart of his Mom.
And heartfelt prayers welcome each moment in time,
That life's gift stays with him and become more refined,
By whisperings returned to the heart of his Mom.
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Tangible quiet surrounds a hundred tiny breaths of one,
Who hears whispers from the heart of his Mom.
Tender beeps from machines full of a life of their own
Reassure parent's of fragile life, so recently sown,
Who hears whispers from the heart of his Mom.
And angels come, to shelter him, with healing in their wings.
Heaven sent, to shepard and perserve him for all the things
That whispering comes from the heart of his Mom.
This is a sacred place, where life clings to slender threads,
Connecting us all to Heavenly homes and dreams unsaid,
That whispering comes from the heart of his Mom.
And heartfelt prayers welcome each moment in time,
That life's gift stays with him and become more refined,
By whisperings returned to the heart of his Mom.
**********
Kenneth G. Hutchins - April 8, 2002
(Benjamin Orton's maternal grandfather)
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(Benjamin Orton's maternal grandfather)
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(This poem was written while sitting in the Newborn Intensive Care Unit. The newborn son of my daughter Becky had been taken there shortly after his birth due to life threatening conditions that we may never fully understand. It was such a privelage to witness the extraordinary levels of competent, compassionate care given by the nurses of this unit. They are the angels spoken of in this poem. The poem itself speaks to the spiritual communication that takes place between a mother and her child. We onlookers cannot see it, hear it or perhaps even understand how it happens - but I know it does. Heart to heart. Whatever may become of little Benjamin, his mother will always know his voice.)
