To another lightning stroke

This is an old one, but it is pertinent again today.

For just a flash you winked your unformed eyes,
And, sideswiped by your miracle, we froze—
Receiving you like water from the skies
That baffles us the instant that it goes.
You slip between the fingers of the womb,
And we embrace the place you would have been
And decorate your nonexistent tomb
With our ex nihilo love from Eden’s pen.
And so my precious little lightning stroke
You leave just as you entered, I suppose:
With grace to fall asleep who never woke
And rise again who never once had rose.
So in your Easter death and unformed whole
I recognize my undeveloped soul.