I remember praying
words only our spirits
understood.
Those mysteries behind
a veil where angels gather
and gold is laid.
Some would say you were
in the world
not of it.
Yet those who loved you,
who came near you
knew this was a small
truth of your life.
The essence of your life
was as pure as the
cradle of the womb.
Those who cared for
you became embryonic fluid
and they baptized you
in the fully immersed
waters of love.
The contractions would
come and go,
come and go,
come and go,
In painful grace
your mother and
mid-wife
delivered you into
the arms of Jesus
as your father
released you
to his Father.
Seven perfect years
our Lord lent you to us
to teach us about
the highest love.
Sure, Caleb, you were sometimes
in the world not of it.
No formed word uttered
but the word of your
very life taught us so.
It taught us so.
For Michael and Corine Johnson
In honor of Caleb Johnson
2004-2011
By Gerald Barrett
March 7th 2011
Beautiful. Beautiful. No words.
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