You Were Walking on My Hand

You said the road behind you was far too rough,
and you wept and struggled.
You fretted that it was a path of thorns,
and you suffered, saying the stony ground was hard to walk.
But, my beloved daughter,
look down for once at the road you are walking.
Not once have you walked a path of thorns,
not once have you walked stony ground.
You were walking only on my hand.
Each time you stepped on it, the pain that reached me was great,
but praying for you, I bore it and bore it again so that you could walk on my hand,
and I loved you.