"The Faith of an Abused Child"

When I was two and Christmas was new
I felt free like a bird in a tree
On my mothers knee as she sang songs to me.

Then at four my father returned from war
The bitter angry man that drank too much
As I hid behind the door where my mother lay
With tears of fear flowing down her face.

Helplessly hoping like a bird in a cage
We sing for the wind to stop blowing
Blood that is red under the bed
Where we hide away and pray
For the Angel of mercy to open the cage
Granting our freedom to fly away to another day.

Today our broken hearts are healed
By Jesus the savior who died
Far away on a brutal cross
Where he lay and prayed for us.

Faith, is the abused child
His mother in peace at last
Dare he ask?
His father will be sober today.



21-Lines