My newest upstairs neighbor,
at 12 days old,
is held in her daddy’s arms.
Rocking back and forth,
my ceiling sings a rhythmic
c-r-e-a-k and creak,
c-r-e-a-k and creak,
lulling her to sleep
and soothing her downstairs neighbor.
This is a prayer of sorts,
this rhythmic creaking:
Oh, that every new life
could be held and rocked and loved.
Oh, that every soul that knows fear and loneliness
could be held and rocked and loved.
Oh, that the world would know of Your love that
holds and rocks each of us.
C-r-e-a-k, I love you.
Creak, I love you.
