There is a special hand I have been given to hold, warm and loving and gentle.
It pains me when I hear people scorn this loving soul.
When I cry he asks me why,
I cannot tell him.
I cannot tell him that I'm crying for him,
That I'm crying out to the people to give love.
They don't see the innocence and love in those tender eyes.
They don't hear the sweetness in this child's voice that will never be like them,
Who will forever remain a child.
Just because he can't talk like them,
Because he can't walk like them,
Because he can't understand like them and they will never be able to understand like him,
Don't feel love so deep for him? Why can't they give it?
Do they not understand that this special person doesn't need to be pitied, to be laughed at or be cried for?
Can't they see he just needs to be loved?
Even when I cry for him and his pain becomes mine I always remember that G‑d alone has given him to me.
He was given as a gift. So why then do I cry for him?
He was a gift so why do you laugh at him?
He was a gift so why do people pity him?
It is so hard to take what G‑d has given us as blessings because it's so hard to see the good in everything.
Everyone has love in them
And I know it's hard to love what you don't want to love,
What's not yours to love,
But it didn't have to be me that was given this.
It could easily have been you
And if it was you,
You wouldn't laugh and scorn or stare or pity.
You would care and love and cry,
You would also wonder why.
You would also wonder how the world could be so cruel,
You would also want to give your burden to someone else until you realised it was a blessing. So when you hear me cry,
When you hear him laugh,
Don't remind me of what I've got and what you haven't,
Don't laugh at my gift.
Just learn to accept people for what they are,
Not what you think they ought to be.
Just start learning to love.