I grew up learning Jesus loves me-
the Bible told me so,
and for years had my feelings hurt
wondering why
if He was alive
He Himself wouldn't let me know.
The Absent Father too busy working
to hold my little hand.
The Prince of Peace, lofty and regal
but ruling from a distant land.
I wonder now if His heart broke too,
watching me when I was young,
lifting my eyes
to distant skies,
wondering where He had gone.
All the while his calloused hand
gently stroked my little head,
and as I sent prayers
into the darkness
He knelt there with me beside my bed.
