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Ghazal L
I have a special friend.
His name is Ben. He is my son.
Full nine years old, with brown eyes,
and stocky build,
his smile is wide like a river
and sweet as blackberries.
We adore each other, he and I.
I made a promise to be worthy of his love,
and he, in turn, loves me
like I love God.
He defends me from attackers.
He yields his mind to me
(though it is often filled with
baseball cards and chewing gum).
I am honored with his simple conversations;
He is generous with his heart;
His love turned me away from thinking I was a failure.
It gave me purpose when I was lost.
Lord, what a gift you have given me!
To have you in a little body
surrendering to my imperfect will!
You found another way to teach me, another way to reach me!
Thief of Thieves!
You stole my heart with my child's heart!
©1989-1997 by Michael
Childs from “An Alphabet of Ghazals"
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—Michael Childs
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