Intertwined

Our worlds tied,
When swollen round.


Her blues met mine,
Life, unbound.


I quiet rocked,
Tender song.



She learned step,
Toddle ’round.


Words took form,
We see letters.


Then her art
All tied together.


Here’s my story —
See my book.


Sketch and rhyme,
Hold me, good.



Odd felt Maple
Among the trees.


Which leaf is mine?
Do I touch bees?


I watch them sting,
Her sap emerged.


Bark showed signs
I knew not where.


They pierced core,
A root dark, sore.



I watched,
She bloomed
Despite the scar


She rose
Broke through
Now near, not far.


Uproot and plant,
Nourishment.


Bees through bark,
New tree in heart.


Her wound,
A friend.



When Christ
Did mend.


I became overwhelmed with thanksgiving for my daughter. She lives Christ and allows me to freely tell her story.



If you read my story about her new freedom, I want you to know that when I asked her permission before posting, she replied with a hearty, “YES”

 

Kayla, I love you so. I am so grateful for you and the way God has tied us together to tell of His wonders and make His deeds known among the nations.


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