A young bird died trembling in my hand.
"Who weeps over its death" I cried.
"I do" replied the Lord.
As you lie quivering in my hand,
Your feathers ruffled and blood stained.
I look into your fearful black eyes,
Try to convey my concern,
But you tremble so,
You don't understand.
Your breath bubbles up,
Your feeble heart falters.
And in fear and misunderstanding
The light of your life is extinguished
And you die - little bird.
I am surrounded by your protecting hands
Your blood flowing, not mine.
I look into your loving eyes
And I feel your concern
I tremble so,
Because I understand.
Your breath is life to me.
Not a single sparrow falls
Without you knowing.
And the light of my life brightens
I live - your child.