I: Twists

So briefly in the world,
out of the mind of God,
our steps are still uncertain
although our eyes are bright.
Ribbons of time stretch out before us
as we carry forth our past.
The twists of destiny inside us,
although we die, will last.

My daughters are my history
encoded cunningly,
and as they play beside us,
my mind and flesh take flight
and day arises roses out of night.

You made my heart a garden
and planted there two sudden roses.
Their roots feed on my memories.
Oh may they grow and spread and bloom
till my life closes.

The past is such a desperate event
our present is perpetually in debt.
So we are bonded to our work,
clawing, acquisitive, hungry
for whatever we can get.

Susannah! take her hands. She's growing. She can walk already.
Dance with her. And what a smile!

I'm a little teapot,
short and stout.
Here is my handle,
here is my spout.
When I bubble up
you hear me shout,
Tip me over and pour me out!
Tip me over and pour me out!

Short and stubby,
soft, ebullient,
my daughter Sarah, joy and joke!
Oh God, have mercy on us
for the hopes we bear
and for the promises we broke.