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His eyes were aglow with a white flame,
And it burned away my fears,
His hand in mine, He lifted me,
His breath dried up my tears.

'Come My child, He spoke gently,
All these mysteries shall now be shown!'
And opening the book and turning the page,
I saw a garden with many flowers grown.

Then He took a dried petal, a lump of coal,
In the garden, up sprang a little bud,
It opened and in its center, a diamond lay,
All formed by the hands of GOD.

He reached for some potter's clay,
And smeared it all over the jewel,
And there appeared a sweet baby girl,
Thrust into a world, cold and cruel.

He said, 'Hers is not to be an easy life,
But not once will she ever complain!'
And dipping His brush into a cup of water,
He painted drops, and unto the flowers it rained.

He spoke of anger and showed me her scars of abuse,
And on her body appeared the bruises she soon receive,
Then, He took the picture of His Son,
Adding it, He said, 'She'd find Him at nine and believe!'

He told me that the other flowers,
Were people in her life, she managed to save,
Then He took some oil and annointed the child,
For the beatings had layed her in the grave.

I wept as we came to that book's last page,
For the loss of a child so very young,
But He pointed to those who had thirsted,
And were touched by her spirit so strong.

As He poured some water on that page,
From out of it, a sparkling river formed,
The 'flowers' reached and dipped in their roots,
Drinking deeply, renewed and reborn.

I realized then that GOD,
Was showing me that it wasn't the length of my days,
But who I've touched and how,
And have I kept His ways?

I promised to keep to heart this lesson,
And vowed that I would right away change,
Then GOD showed me, many rooms filled with books,
And on one of them written in gold was- JANE!

©Jane Richer
06/11/2002
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