THE DRUGGED BABY – a poem by Gralefrit
The Lord says to me, ‘Fight the fight’
Give up your right and step into the light.
Pick up your cross
Lose all that dross
Count it all loss
Again I say, ‘Pick up your cross.’
‘But Lord’ I stutter, ‘there is no way’
‘I must speak and have my say
What about my human right
To choose whether to pick up my cross and fight?’
The orphan and widow; the sick and poor
What will you say when they knock on your door?
‘Come in’ says I, ‘I’ve a great speech to give!’
‘But only speak life’ they say, ‘we want to live!’
Human rights can be human wrongs
But the question is, for whom do you long?
‘You say you long for me,’ declares the Lord, ‘you even bend your knee’
But my Spirit knows when you don’t want to see.
A baby has been born this very day
Her mother’s on crack, she has no say
You had the call to provide a way
A way to make her life pay.
This new born baby, will you take her in?
Into your home, out of life’s bin
Will you take her, a gift from me?
To show her my love and help her to see?
‘Yes Lord, I will pick up your cross
and answer the door.
Let her invade our home our hearts
But only if you invade my heart and make it your home!’
I accept the call, this gift, this poor drugged up broken baby girl
To love ’til it hurts and then some more
To see her break free of drugs and pain
And pray all the while that in Christ, a new life she’ll gain.
Glory to Christ
I accept your gift.
Amen and amen.
(c) Gralefrit 2014