there is an enemy that prowls
he is not in the beggings
of broken wandering
but meets ruin there
in child\'s puddled tears
face to ground
as hand gropes for garment\'s hem
where One is always near
to shattering
oh accuser
a daughter limps beside Him
where wild flowered love
responds to heart undone
your undoing
His creation fractured
warmed in binding balm
unplucked in grip of palm
light in darkness scattering
flee