Born of Blood

falsespirea.jpg

Born of blood, in labour’s pain,

life contracts, and breathes again;

true love’s sacrificial start

is pregnant with a bleeding heart.

*

True love bleeds – first, to give life, then, to sustain it. To love means heartache and pain just as surely as joy. It is entering into another’s world, accepting the call to stand with another through joy and pain, sun and rain. It is choosing to give up comfort to carry another’s burdens. It is accepting the highest calling, to lay aside part of one’s own agenda to champion someone else’s. Isn’t this what God did in setting aside His divinity to become like us, to bleed on our behalf? It is a deep privilege to be called a mother, to copy in some small way the sacrificial love of our greatest Hero. Happy Mother’s Day to each of you…

Bleeding Heart

Bleeding heart, who cut fair vein, and left you here to bleed?

Who plied the knife to wounding’s drain, through heinous, depraved deed?

Who dropped the ball, who left their post, that villain access gained?

Why are you gutted by the ghost whose hands with guilt are stained?

How came your fragile lonely heart to hang on futile sleeve?

Who plucked it down with loathsome dart and tore your make-believe?

Where will you turn, where will you find the comfort that you crave?

O bleeding heart, there is One kind, Whose strength can make you brave.