What did I do to deserve a life?
Of what, it doesn’t matter—
What beauty God must see
In the creation of His image,
Forever corrupted, but His.
Like a child that has wronged
Her father, but her look
Of wide-eyed repentance
Only makes his heart exhale,
Overflowing with love
For the child who knows
Better, or maybe doesn’t,
And only wants to heal
Her broken parts—
A life of joy, of sadness,
But a life nonetheless,
One that I do not deserve
In the slightest—He gifted
Me out of the most profound
Love I couldn’t imagine
Save for the fatherly arms so
So often wrapt around me,
Reassuring, though the air
Is empty—I can feel His

Grace in this life that I live.