The Baptizer

Remember my baptism, remember it
For me-- when I was not yet three months
And it was the season of Christmas
Not Advent. Christ already born--
Now it was my turn. Wearing my 
Mother's wedding gown, altered:
Did you think, then, it was something
Strange, a baby getting married
In Chicagoland midwinter doom?
They tell me I was screaming,
Howling for all the world as though drowning.
And I was. 

Remember the pastor, remember him
For me-- I don't. I don't know his name.
But he was the interim, itinerant, wandering
The earth. And did he know, could he know
I, too, could be the baptizer-- cloaked
This time in a minister's gown, my gown
And drowning babies, momento mori 
Splitting parents from their children and giving
Them to God.

Remember the people, remember them
For me-- that little German congregation
Who welcomed me to the family of God. 
Their bruises incurable and wounds grievous
As Israel's in the days of Jeremiah-- what does
It mean to be welcomed by this people? Are they
Somehow with me still, and is theirs the voice
Calling me in the wilderness:
Make straight the path of the Lord and be thou
The next baptizer?