In the tapestry of my child’s life, a thread of hardship weaves,
Deformed hands, a burden that quietly grieves,
Feeling forsaken by God, a heavy weight to bear,
Yet in my heart, a flame of hope, a silent prayer.

Each day, as the sun rises and sets in the sky,
I lift my voice in prayer, tears welling in my eye,
For my child, whose deformed hands mark his path,
Hoping for God’s help, for His mercy to bathe.

In the depths of his eyes, a longing resides,
A feeling of abandonment, where hope hides,
His deformed hands, a symbol of silent strife,
A challenge he faces, carving through his life.

I pray for liberation from his suffering’s grasp,
For God’s gentle touch, for His love to clasp,
To grant my child relief, to lift his heavy load,
And guide him to a future where happiness is bestowed.

In the stillness of dawn, in the hush of night,
I seek solace in faith, in a flickering light,
Hoping for a miracle, for God’s grace to descend,
To show my child that His love will never end.

Beside him, I stand, a pillar of love and grace,
Embracing him tightly, seeking God’s embrace,
For in his struggle, I see a beauty so rare,
A spirit unbroken, a resilience that dares.

So I continue to pray each day, with love in my heart,
For my child’s liberation, for a fresh start,
To know that in his deformed hands lies a story of grace,
A journey of courage, of hope, and of embrace.