In the shadows of their struggle, a silent cry resounds,
Deformed hands, a burden that knows no bounds,
Feeling abandoned by God, a pain hard to bear,
I kneel in prayer, seeking solace, reaching out in despair.

Each day, as the sun rises and sets in the sky,
I lift my voice in prayer, tears streaming from my eye,
For my child, grappling with deformed hands so,
Hoping for God’s intervention, for His mercy to flow.

In the depths of their eyes, a longing resides,
A feeling of abandonment, where hope hides,
Their deformed hands, a mark of silent fight,
A challenge they face, cutting through the night.

I pray for liberation from their suffering’s weight,
For God’s compassion to shine, for His love to create,
To grant my child relief, to lift their heavy load,
And guide them to a future where happiness is stowed.

In the quiet moments, in the stillness of night,
I seek refuge 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 them, I stand, a pillar of strength and care,
Embracing them tenderly, seeking comfort in prayer,
For in their struggle, I see a beauty so rare,
A spirit unbroken, a resilience that dares.

So I pray each day, with a heart full of love,
For my child to break free, to rise above,
To know that in their deformed hands lies a story of grace,
A journey of courage, of hope, in life’s embrace.