She walked alone, eyes to the ground,
No smile, no voice, no joyful sound.
A life withdrawn, a soul crushed low,
A spirit lost, with nowhere to go.
She’d breeze through days in pin-drop silence,
Dead to all, yet still existing
Like a shadow quickly swept away,
She lived unseen, day after day.
One fateful slip, a sudden fall,
She lay in pain, no strength to call.
But just nearby, a door swung wide
Mrs Mary came like an angel in disguise.
With steady hands and quiet grace,
She soothed the pain from the girl’s face.
She wrapped her leg and brewed warm tea,
A simple act of empathy.
The silence broke, the tears tumbled down
Years of sorrow finally unbound.
“Oh child,” said Mary, “cry no more,
Christ still stands at every door.
‘Come to me,’ He calls the worn
the burdened, lost, the soul forlorn.
He gives us rest, He makes us whole,
Restores the heart, revives the soul.” (Math 11:28)
The same God who called forth life once gone,
Who raised up Lazarus with His song,
Who heals, restores, and makes things new
That same God will come through for you. (John 11:44)
She bowed her head, released her past,
And found true peace and hope at last.
“My life, O Lord, I give to you
Let me be yours in everything I do.”
