they sing of joy, of hope;
exultant in the darkness,
made brave by a blind certainty
the sun will rise again.
tiny hearts’ rapture bubbles up
to greet each new dawn;
these little morning birds
are an echo of the flicker, the pulse
from your brittle twig chests
that sang from the machine
in dark hospital rooms
telling me you were not lost
(though with each of you I thought
this shell may not be enough
to keep you safe till sunrise)
now you greet each new dawn;
fledglings with a fearless faith
in their mother’s love
as certain as the sun...
because of this, your faith in me,
your steadfast song of joy and hope,
I promise, my little morning birds:
I will rise and rise and rise again.