I hold her in my tired arms,
Her life now in my hands;
I pull her close and stroke her cheek,
Defying fate’s commands.
I carry her past the gates of Hell,
Into the cool night air;
I shudder at what could have been,
And smooth her smoky hair.
My tiny charge, this cherished child,
Can’t be more than five…
The cries for her beyond the flames,
Tell why I risk my life.
Her innocent, adoring eyes
Are locked upon my face;
She clasps her hands behind my neck,
Secure in my embrace.
Her anguished mother rushes near,
I smile and give a nod;
She sobs and reaches out to touch
Her precious gift from God.
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