A life ago, tucking me in each night,
my mother said a prayer, as if she must: 
“The Lord bless and keep you, and lift up the light
of his countenance upon you...” Now she is dust
these seven years, and in my life there’s none
to pray as she did. Long I’ve questioned whether
that Lord exists who cares what I have done,
or do, today or all my days together.

But what a comfort to a child’s mind,
the thought of being, through eternity,
a part of God’s great kingdom! Is it true?
We look for answers we may never find.
For all we speculate, the mystery
remains: the fact of “I”, the fact of “you”.