My Daughter

baby girl, 7 pounds, 14 ounces
beautiful, smart, third year art student
the devil took you to the hell of
heroin, meth, and homelessness
tinted your windows with glassy eyes
tilted your world with blurred perception
traded your baby for needles and pills

through it all, your mother prayed daily
          and every time the phone rang:  please not the morgue, please bring her back
but a call came

an arrest – hope!
an empty shell huddled in a cell, finally broken enough, willing to try living again
a reformative 9-month womb:  the Bethany House
God performed another Technicolor miracle
righted your ship, focused your lens, restored your soul
I praise Him for re-gifting you, even better than before
         and pray especially for the many still lurking in the shadows

–    Kim Johnson