Poem: “Zeph 3:17”

darkened playhouse
small church in worship
indie music on stage
percussion clanging
guitars sagging
praises sung

in the worshiping shadows
stands one white Midwest mom
with one dark Ethiopian infant son

now located in Nebraska cold
cradled softly in glad mother’s
outstretched arms
eyes filled with wonder looking up
to absorb his mother’s song

voice above him
assuring arms beneath
held in love
unfamiliar yet at peace
marveling to listen at the foreign song
of adopted love rejoicing

2 thoughts on “Poem: “Zeph 3:17”

  1. Hi Tony. I’m Jody, the “white Midwest Mom” who was in that service. My father just sent me the link to your poem. Thanks for your words. It was beautiful.

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