It might seem crazy, but I knew too well That nothing else had worked, so when I heard The Jewish prophet was on Gentile soil, I cornered him. I fell down on the ground. “A devil has my daughter in his grip— Please help,” I begged. He pierced me with a look: “Children eat first. Don’t give their food to dogs.” How can I say it? From that word I took Fresh hope and flung his words back like a bolt To rest my case, for even dogs are fed At last. I stepped into the scene that he Had painted and I asked for crumbs, not bread. He praised my faith and told me she was healed. I found her sleeping. (As she slept, she smiled.)
I really love this one! Beautiful and thoughtful as always!