Sonnet of Motherhood XXVII – Zora Bernice May Cross

O, not alone I weave this miracle
Of glowing spirit from my body’s zone.

With every moment of the life unknown

You feed the glory of a growing cell.

All day I think of you, and night must tell

Dreams of my dreams unto your heart alone;

So, seeing you, I take you, O my own,

Into my child where first you wrought Life’s spell.

Dearest, as much as I, you breathe in pain,

Breeding yourself—your very soul from me

By look and sign, soft word and action strong,

And all you longed for in its form regain.

I am a humble haven where we three,

Father and child and mother, make a song. 

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