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by Jolene
Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1679065
my first poem-watching my child grow up
Untouched by the World

I remember him, my newborn babe,
So small, so untouched by the world.
The first fall that broke skin, that drew blood,
The pain shot through my soul!
‘Twas the first blemish dealt him, no longer was he
so perfectly untouched by the world.

At a birthday party with all of his friends
Cheering him on at the arcade,
The obscenity blurted from his very own tongue;
The pain shot through me again.
This blemish, Lord, was harder to mend,
He had been thus touched by the world.

The agonizing, glorious teenage years,
Days of wonder and insatiable longings.
The blemishes dealt to him now I fear
Are more painful and still shared between us.
But try as I might, to protect him form this,
I can’t keep him untouched by the world.

The babe with the bruise, the youthful transgression,
The teen with his worldly desires…
Dear Lord thou hast blessed him time and again
With thy loving healing powers.
It’s my prayer that he will again turn to Thee
To become perfectly untouched by the world.

©Jolene Krutz 1995
© Copyright 2010 Jolene (photomejo at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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