The Tongues of Babes

I'm certain infants would speak if only they wanted;
but their lack of desire comes from being all too often
caught up in all that which we are too busy to behold.

When God perfects His praise on the tongues of babes,
it is very likely through an eloquence of silence that
their gaze proclaims His Mystery, and it is only when

they learn to look away (in a way they learn from us)
that they begin to fuss and cry for Him whom they've
lost. Each wrenched and contorted call is a fall into

speaking, which seems to us less a lapse from presence
into absence, but rather a growth and development, in
our manner of self-expression and -proclamation. Yet

mixed among jumbled attempts at restoring communion
through communication, this babe reaches up with eyes
and hands while it sucks from its mother's breast. With

its stubby nipple fingers it plays with its mother's lips
as if to ask, if she is also hungry, if she remembers
her own mother's milk and breast, and with its eyes

imbued with all severity, "Do you remember that love
which held and gave you life?" it, while drinking, asks.