Masacure - a (late) Christmas Poem

A poem/song I originally wrote about the mascure of baby boys after Mary and Joseph fled to Eygpt, though it makes sense for the mothers of those who killed in CT shootings.

Your eyes so small, so innocent,

A beautiful smile, so fragile, so sweet.

Tiny fingers, tiny toes,

My son I love you more than you'll ever know.

Your laughter is my greatest joy,

your four toothed grin, the only reward I need.

To be without you is unthinkable,

My precious boy, oh my dearest son.

They came on wings of darkness,

stealing love, stealing life.

They left you broken and torn,

sending you Home, washed in my tears.

I raised my voice and sang for you,

wept this massace of  innocence.

I held you close, refused thier comfort,

begging for your life, my son, oh my son.

Always will I harbor your memory,

deep inside, I will ponder your story.

I don't know why, the Lord chose you, to die today,

but I will try to understand, the underlying theme.

Even though they came on wings of darkness,

stealing my love, stealing your life.

Even though I've never been so broken and torn,

I know you are Home and it's everything you need.

Never will I forget your life, my gift.

Never will I forget, my son, oh my son.