Updating the diocesan prayer blog today. This poem really moved me.
I saw you in the doorway.
You were black and bruised and broken.
I knew you were someone's daughter.
You are your mother's daughter.
If she could, she would sit with you
and say how much she loved you.
I saw you in the shelter.
You looked much older than your years.
Your kids were tired and making a fuss.
I knew you were someone's daughter.
You are your mother's daughter.
Imagine her here as a sister a friend,
saying how much she loves you.
I saw you on the news last night
on a dirt road in Soweto.
They were screaming at you.
You had no shoes.
I know you were someone's daughter.
You are your mother's daughter
and she is her mother's daughter.
She has put up with so much abuse.
That shows how much she loves you.
I saw you in the delivery room
in drug withdrawal, writhing.
They say you have AIDS. You are three hours old,
and I know you are someone's daughter.
You are your mother's daughter
and she needs you to forgive her.
she doesn't know how to love as yet,
but when she does, I promise you,
she will say how much she loves you.
I saw you in an orphanage.
How sad you looked, and lonely.
They say that you are hard to place,
but I know you are someone's daughter.
You are your mother's daughter
and a foster mother's daughter,
and one of these days, she will come for you
and say how much she loves you.
I saw you in a nursing home.
You were slumped in a chair with a vacant stare.
I knew you were somebody's daughter.
You are your mother's daughter,
your Mother God's own daughter.
Soon, very soon, She will come for you
and say how much She loves you.
Miriam Therese Winter
