Tears,
precious tears
falling like jewels from your eyes,
what more, what more can we give
for daughters lost
as beautiful as the moon,
a daughter held holy
by your hands when once
lifted from the watery womb
now fills your every memory breath
with each new born
your hands will reach and lift
out of the darkness into the light
until
precious she, wearing daddy's gloves
reaches for you out of the night
and guides you safely
across the skies into the light
where you'll resound and quake
with a newborn cry
that will ring Zion's bell
with an inconsolable stab of joy
as precious He
wipes that final tear from your eye.


Brian Morgan, 4-29-99