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