I Talked My Daughter Home

Sometimes the phone rings late
My heart flutters with a fear
I quickly say a fervent prayer
Asking my God to come near.

I hear her voice, then sigh
Sensing something is not right
My daughter tearfully tells me
Of an infant who died that night.

She held this little one to her
Beautiful eyes stared into her face
My daughter rocked the baby faithfully
Then God took her from that place.

Tonight we shared a burdened heart
For a tiny one's courageous fight
Then closed her precious little eyes
As she entered into His sight.

My daughter, a very passionate nurse
When she spoke so tenderly to me
"Thanks for talking me home tonight"
Oh, I felt her need, her plea.

I remember my mom talked me home
For the fifty years she shared my life
She talked me home so many times
In those days of pain and strife.

But now I feel His presence
My God whispers, "You are not alone"
My daughter, my daughter, I love you
Someday I will talk you home.

Book by Kathleen Higham

If you like this poem, you may enjoy reading more work by this artist:

buy