Sonnet of Motherhood XI  – Zora Bernice May Cross

A miracle of miracles is here.

Take off your shoes. This place is holy ground.

No man-child ours like that the shepherd found

By dreaming Mary when the Star burned clear.

Our God has given us a woman, dear,

With satin skin her dimpling shoulders round.

No pinkest shell with sea-blown bubbles crowned

Could match the marvel of her tiny ear.
How like to me, and yet ’tis you—all you.

I dare not touch her. Take your soul, My Own.

Set in my body with your mind, your sight,

Your dreams and thoughts with every promise true—

A queen to sit upon a regal throne

With a man’s soul won out of woman’s right. 

Zora Bernice May Cross