I have a special child...
that makes me a special parent.
It makes me strong and it makes me weak.
The child that at one time I could protect
by cradling her in my arms,
now walks by my side.

Oh how my arms ache for her,
how my soul and mind in the darkest 
deepest parts of the night torments me
with "what ifs" and "if only's."
Yet in my sleep,
my soul glides peaceful and free.

There are days that I fall to my knees 
and hang my head to hide the tears 
that fall one by one to the floor...
thinking of how that soft wispy hand,
that was once was so small,
and hung on to my finger as if 
our spirits were joined together 
by an intense waltz to lullaby music,
Now pushes me away.

There are  days when I raise 
my head high with such joy,
so grateful for every inch 
of her skinny, scrawny little body...
rejoice.


Every day we connect
is like the first drink of cool water 
falling on a thirsty desert.
The sweet sound of the first ray of quiet
when she lays her head down on her pillow
is like a lull in a tornado...
just enough time to begin 
to brace for the next attack.

When I look into her eyes,
my heart aches with such love,
I feel grateful to a world 
that has been so cruel...
she is a special child,
my special child.

Because fate has brought us together
as one,
I take her hand,
and together 
we will slay the mighty dragon.