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In her agony, in her pain;

in her misery and selfish claim,

on that sorrowful and fearful day,

He dosed her off and let her lay.

It was a cold foggy place.

In the dark she couldn’t see his face.

But up ahead on the throne,

The lonely Man, he sat alone.

He had a face, she couldn’t gaze;

There were eyes, nose - but everything’s a haze.

He’s a man - that she can tell.

A lonely man she smell.

As she stood staring up ahead,

she can’t understand the sorrow in her head.

No – not sorrow – it was guilt;
guilt of something, she cannot wilt.

He raised His hand and motioned to her:

“I’ll let you see child, please come closer”

Eyes straight ahead, her steps slowly led;

as she came near she stopped dead.

The hazy face had a child in his arm.

As she stared at the sight, her face became warm.

Tears fell from her eyes and she fell on her knees.

Then He leaned forward and reached out to appease.

“See my child, the one I hold.

The package I had for you to behold.

Have you forgotten what it was like?

Why don’t you want my gift of life?”

Frozen right there, her eyes were swollen.

She cannot say, but yes she’s forgotten.

To be helpless in a womb, with a life, but no voice,

awaiting a wondrous heart to make a choice.

Her tears said it all and the man now stood tall.

“I forgive you child, it’s not a late call.

Take this and be brave, just don’t be afraid.

This little one is your light, your shade”

Now, in every tale of a mother’s snide.

I always tell of the child once inside.

Now giving pride, joy so rife.

The gift of God, the gift of life.