Mary's TreasureSýnishorn

Wrapped in Layers

His small sleeping body curved into my chest

Each breath’s rise and fall sinking deeper in rest.

I buried my nose in His warm baby hair

Amazed at the closeness with God I could share.

And could the great God who created the world,

Be infant whose fingers around mine now curled?

With cloth designated for sacrificed lambs

I bound up my baby with trembling hands.

I pinch off a piece of the swaddle cloth white

And tuck it away in a place out of sight. 

The blood washed away, now he gleamed pure as snow.

The process by which His forgiveness would flow.