Sprout

She came in the night on the ninth of October

They looked my in my red eyes and said she won’t last

We all knew that she should’ve slept until mid-December

When it comes to the lot I have learned, I can’t count on the cast

That night a vision came

At the same time both vivid and vague

Of a father looking on

As he burns to the ground the house that he made

When I woke, I had been slain in the spirit of reason

Baptized in the rolling dark waters of doubt

‘Cause I’m told it’s Your will to withhold, but it feels like treason

A rain cloud refusing to pour in a season of drought

That night a vision came

At the same time both vivid and vague

Of a father looking on

As he burns to the ground the house that he made

And I heard him say

It was well on its way

Just look how it swayed

How it crumbled and caved

As the crimson glow of the fire caught his eye

I could tell he could hear, as well could I

That along with the crackle and growl of the fire

Came a call quite small from inside--

I’m in here alive

But now, a child is born, she is bent but not broken

A spark, a seed and a sprout

A miracle or catastrophe

This child who’s orphaned her family