The above image copyrighted to Microsoft Corporation
An angry voice, a muffled scream
The sound of sobbing heard,
The boys awoke, was this a dream?
But that would be absurd!
For this had been a happy place
No threat to any one
And violence thought a great disgrace,
Eyes gazed at eldest son
He slowly climbed out of his bed
His body shook with fright,
Then down the hall with silent tread
To see an ugly sight
The Father sat astride his wife
A pillow on her head,
Son rushed right in to end the strife
He feared his Mother dead.
Then Father turned to face the lad
His face was flushed and red,
Boy’s countenance a study sad
Glanced at his Mom with dread
The twelve year old was angry now
To see his Mother’s plight
But never to his fear he’d bow,
He’d make this matter right!
He pulled his Father from the bed
Took pillow off his Mother
And there took Father’s place instead
Then beckoned little brother
The little boys glared at their Dad
Who’d turned to pack his things,
Now gone forever what they’d had
For that’s what violence brings.
The twelve year old became a man
On that sad fateful day
His moral courage once began
A life choice there to stay.
“© Copyright Ian Grice 2012, all rights reserved”