'Twere Three Months Before Christmas

'Twere three months before Christmas, when in the cold rain
An unknown voice spoke with uncertainty and pain;
The caller said “sorry” and words that brought fear,
Mom searched for some hope since she was not there;
She screamed to her sons … “Please help!” she said.
While visions of Violence danced in her head;
And Mom in her panic, and Brother at bay,
I had no choice: I was Man for that day.
I jumped in my car, drove quickly to him …
Dad was near fatal, chances were slim.

The scene was chaotic, frantic at best,
A lump in my throat … a pound in my chest;
I searched with my eyes, watered with fear;
The cones blocked all people, not to go near.
The blare of the siren, the ScreamingMachine;
Where was my Dad? His body … unseen.
My calves were now burning from TipToe to top;
I saw a limp arm … Mind racing—Please stop!
The car was wrapped tightly, in near-circular bent
The metal crushed body lay lifeless and spent.

Off with the medics, to get blood and fresh air.
They took my Dad’s body; I remained in despair.
This ViolentSilence, which I would soon learn,
Happens to others … others who yearn.
But alone stood my body, I searched for a prayer.
An Angel came by … Guardian now there.
Compassion and comfort, he spoke with eyes closed;
I fought every muscle to keep ‘self composed.
The only words heard were “hurt” and “hurt bad…”
I winced at each detail—God, please don’t take Dad!

The days that would follow, brought fear and more doubt;
Prayers once whispered … came out as a shout.
They stitched up his heart, his lungs and his chest;
They told us to prep for less than the best.
But our God is so grand; His promise is true:
Whatever you ask, He will do unto you.
We found peace in the Psalms—Word from above;
The nine-and-two chapter, spoke about love:
’Tis good to give thanks, to the Lord O’ Most High;
To declare Lovingkindness in the morning bright sky.
And Faithfulness by night, shall carry you through…
This is God’s promise to me and to you.

‘Twere three months before Christmas, we almost lost him;
A Pappy … a Dad; for us, it was dim.
But with faith in the Father and with hours of praise,
Those months before Christmas has now become days.
Dad walks with a limp, years of healing to come;
His face is part broken—the memories still numb.
But don’t you feel sorry, Dad asked me to say,
The Lord is Alive! He’s coming one day!
And I heard him exclaim; Dad said with all might,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.