Little child so filled with fear,
I wish your mom had held you near,
Had hugged you when you felt so scared,
And let you know that someone cared.
Who helped your heart to slow its beat
So you could firmly plant your feet?
No help came, and so you hid
Yourself below a heavy lid.
Little child so filled with rage,
I see you there inside your cage,
Your heart like water boiling hot
Kept beneath the lidded pot.
You swallow down this burning hate;
It’s the portion on your plate.
But oh, dear child, don’t you know
Your rage has nowhere else to go?
Little child, I see your hurt,
Your hard heart crushed to powdery dirt.
I hear your sobbing, hear your cries.
I see your tears and downcast eyes.
I see you when you cannot stand
Without someone to hold your hand—
Locked away inside your vault.
Dear child, this is not your fault.
Little child, God made you good.
I wish you only understood
That you were not created bad.
This sight makes me feel so sad:
To see you out there all alone,
Turning your precious heart to stone
So you don’t feel the aching pain
Of longing that will long remain.
To the extent possible under law, J has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this work. This work is published from: United States.
