There was a child went forth every day;
And the first object she look'd upon, that object she became;
And that object became part of her for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching many years
The smell of pancakes, that spelled her name, freeze dried milk, and sunshine
Fall leaves piled high, siblings running rampant, and soft fall breezes
Discarded school books and stacks of paper, pens and pencils, and broken crayons, they became part of her.
Sadness and alone, swinging arms and uncertainty, became part of her.
Coldness and oatmeal and oatmeal and oatmeal.
Missing mama and home and normal
Tall oak trees with branches big enough to hide her, formed her early life
Suicide and murder, abuse and neglect
life's very ugliest, tried hard to come inside
to form who it is she was
but there was too much goodness, and they,
they did not become part of her
Fast thrown balls, high school jerseys, friends in abundance
Recipes and cooking, her passion
Necessity induced creativity
Struggles brought tenacity
Brown eyed brown skinned babies,
Two beautiful gifts, never planned but always wanted
the sweet sound of heaven in human form, became her
skin to skin love shared with someone so small who meant so big
late nights, breastfeeding, crying, baby lotion, and unfathomable love
Strong will and faith, Jesus and the hope He alone can bring
A return to school, endless struggles
make her stronger
babies and books, past haunts and todays troubles
and yet she smiles
sewn together with strings of tears
pieces formed in broken promises and nothingness
mistakes and misunderstandings
become the very fabric of her
But of those things, she made a lovely quilt
made with all the pieces of yesterday
and hopes for tomorrow
These became part of that child who went forth everyday,
and who now goes,
and who will always go forth every day
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