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Womb of God
wire, paper, paper mâché, light
originally displayed in the baptismal fount of an old church.

original poem, written to accompany the sculpture

Womb of God
Before I was conceived
            did you carry me?
Your wisdom carving out
the contours of my being.
Your spirit hovering over -
            daydreaming of what I would become?
 
The silver flame of your fierce love kindled.
 
Did you tenderly hand me over to my human mother?
In that instant, seeing and sorrowing
all the troubles I would face in this grief-pierced world.
Did you see, too, how I would reject your love
            how my lips would sometimes praise you
            while my heart was far away?
You chose to bear those wounds in the lining of your womb?
Chose to carry me to term
even though it meant your death?
 
Were there tears in your eyes as you sank me in the waters of baptism,
            fusing the DNA of eternity
into my DNA?
 
If I quiet myself,
I can hear your heartbeat
            warm and loud.