“Blessing,” Ensign, June 1989, 35
Blessing
I understand it now as
I watch you walk
ascend
your pin-striped shoulders dark and
broad,
bundle of white in your arms.
The circle encloses.
Your larger hands love
lift
more than hold the sleeping child,
the word-psalm still to summon.
Father-son covenant,
humble prayer reveals
blessing
a knowledge gained not from knowing,
but from deepest listening.
Lost in dark-suited prayer,
tall father, tiny
son
I understand it clearly now.
Our separate powers are one.