I remember the day
I found out what was wrong.
My perfect child, the one who survived,
had an imperfection I could no longer deny.
I cried for my daughter and for myself.
I shook my head from the guilt.
I walked away from my pain.
I remember when she understood
that her silent world was silent to her alone.
She heard no whispers; she heard no shouts.
That day, I realized I could try to talk with her,
but for the first time, I wondered,
would she ever be able to hear me?
I remember the day when
my mother learned what was wrong with me.
I could not hear my mother cry,
but I did see the pain in her eye.
She looked at me, shook her head, and walked away.
I remember when I discovered I was different.
I heard no weeping; I heard no laughing.
The silence that day was louder than I could bear.
That day, I realized I could not hear you,
but for the first time, I wondered,
could you hear me?
I remember the day I created mother and child.
So beautiful and so perfect.
I gave you to each other, but only for a time.
I did not walk away, but held you in my loving arms.
I speak with a voice that can be heard, but only by the heart.
So listen mother, listen child,
I have heard you,
but I wonder,
can you hear me?
Patti Brown
Author of Divine Possibilities
www.divinepossibilities.net
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW
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