Faint, I hear on winds of spring,
As little bells whose giggles ring,
Recollections gray of our beginnings
Chiming through to this new morning
And You are new
My Ancient of Days.
How dark those bitter nights
Must have been, dark sights
Broken, jagged childhood delights
Snarling in crooked-toothed fright
And I begged You for death,
O Giver of Life.
How those moments undone
Dissolved one by one
Like snow exposed to a gentle sun
As You held me in a garden
Sweating in fervor
For my redemption.
I glimpsed You lifting
Gold from death’s ashen rift
I waited, in sorrow adrift,
For You to sift
The precious from the worthless,
As You continually do.
I never dreamed this well.
You established me:
Your daughter, a mother, a wife.
I begged for the release of death,
But You gave instead the embrace of life
Giver of every good and perfect gift.