As I sew my daughter’s Christmas dress

As I sew my daughters Christmas dress,
The cloth died red
Turns to blood
When it meets saline drops
That darken the festive cheer.

I think of the mom wrapping a gift,
Made useless in one day.
I wonder, how it feels
to have that joy ripped away?

The call that tells her,
He is not coming home
But is gone further than away.

How could that woman stand?
How can the father breath,
With bowling balls strapped to his chest,
And his child bled away?

Soon there is anger,
And instant social disdain,
Some analyze,
Some sympathize.
Some shout revenge again.
Some accuse,
Others kneel to God and pray,
But the parents will stop,
And wish the ‘some’ away.

They will enter or close the room
Where they’re baby laid.
And perhaps, throw the dress,
For their daughter made.
A life protected, done away.

A little child, just five.
Two years older than my son,
Is gone from loving arms.
So I too wish the some away.

God, please, help the hearts of those families who lost there loved ones in the Sandy Hook shooting, especially the parents of those children.