For Ron on Valentines Day 1991

A little girl as brown as dirt
sat beside a mango tree.
Her thoughts afar,
her little toes digging in the ground.

What will it be like to die alone...
to think of pain no more
to sleep the sweet sleep of death?
Such thoughts so deep and strong
shook her little scrawny frame into a sob.

You see she did not know
the careless laugh, precocious whims and
silliness of any other child just eight.

No warmth, except the stinky heat
that mixed her tears with her sweat.
The angry voices, outside her door,
the smell of alcohol,
so acid and penetrating to the pores.
The knock (sometimes), the door ajar
her room so dark,
the slow descend into the pit of hell...
Death so close and yet so far never came...

The child grew,
with hate rooted in her bitter heart,
anger, not trusting any man.
Not a soul knew such pain hidden under her dark eyes.

Thru Gods hands
(a God she did not know),
she left the land of the mango tree,
of dirt and sweat
and she almost thought she left
the hate and pain behind.

She met a man, gentle, kind, quiet...
No love she had to give.
Emotions she once said are for the weak,
she knew first hand.
Had she not had a mother who gave everything,
including her daughter for the love of a man?

She married the gentle man.
He was kind to her and yet inside her secret hid,
her mouth told lies,
but he could see once in while
the little bitter heart of the long ago child.

This man, he knew God,
he tenderly spoke of Him,
never pushing, saying few words,
knowing that pushing hard
would only draw her away
perhaps scared perhaps mad.

Jesus knew this was His child,
whom He embraced long ago under the mango tree
and gave the strength to go back in the house
and endure the pain.
He never left her,
not even when hell was so close to the child.

The pain and anger grew
bigger than her bitter heart.
It came out shaming her before a crowd.
The secret is out!
She could live with this no more,
death being nearer than before.

God chose this time to tenderly touch her
and call her His child.
She saw Jesus and His pain.
He embraced her, and told her of His love.
And she ran from death,
into the arms of her Father.

The light was on...
the darkness hid in her heart no more.
The pain was gone, (well not all of it sometimes)
and she was free.
Uprooted were the bitter roots,
the pain, mistrust, the hate,
replaced with Him.

New light! What sights!
What she saw for the first time
was the tender look of the kind gentle man.
He not ashamed,
nor repulsed by her abuse.
Tenderly took her in his arms...
and she became a child again.
And she could laugh,
that careless laugh she never knew,
precocious whims,
and silliness were new to her...
So he indulged her tenderly,
touched her softly,
and whispered of his love.

Oh and how she grew to love him.
The Lord restored what the locus ate...
Thru the man that He had chosen for her
long before the time
she sat under the mango tree.