In My Father’s Arms

I am but a child

A babe in my Father’s hands.

Flailing arms, slave to my own reflexes,

unsure of my own mind,

unsure of anything but need.

I need comfort.

I need sustinance.

I need…

I kick and tilt and fall,

crying out, I scream.

My lungs are full, they are all that work within me.

Help me, they say.

Help me…

Help me who?

Help me Father!

Catch me Father.

I feel a pat on my back, a stoke on my brow,

but my needs are too great…

too late.

I arch and I sob,

the pain is too much, help too far.

My mind, it screams.

I hear my Father, a whisper between my cries,

I’ve got you.

You are safe.

But I am not safe, can He not see?

Does He not hear my cries?

I yell louder, trying to make Him understand.

He hugs me, but I fight,

my body out of my control.

I must make Him see,

I am drowning, falling, starving.

The world is too much for me.

Trust me, He whispers.

I’ve got you.

He hasn’t got me.

I cry.

I scream.

I fight.

Help me Father!

I’ve got you.

Help me Father!

I have always been here.

Help me Father!

I will always have you.

I sleep.

I will always be here.

3 thoughts on “In My Father’s Arms

Add yours

    1. He is doing so well! We are deliriously happy. He loves the outdoors, sleeps super well, and eats constantly. His little smiles kill me! I hope you can meet him soon!


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