THAT CHILD
That child was not created one drunken night,
enclosed in some smoke, twisted around some rocks and powder.
That child is a work of the hand of God.
That child was not placed in a poisoned womb
by someone else’s husband.
That child was tearfully, yet carefully, laid in that place
by The One who already knew that child,
not by the one who would stumble across that child a month or so later.
And though the angels cried for that child
as that child’s first hit off a crack pipe
came before precious breath itself,
and as that child floated in a drunken stupor, inside a liquid filled sac,
God smiled upon that child as He gently guided that child
into the harsh work that would become the home of that same child,
who God knew would survive it.
Donna Sparrow
