Bright smile, loud coos

The baby babbled in his crib.

Mother with twisted brow

Only saw the right, clubbed foot.


Peaceful sheen upon her face

Daughter lay injured in bed.

Father with twisted brow

Focused on the bandaged head.


Wedded bliss of sixty years

The widow, cold in polished box.

The husband with twisted brow

Mourned his loss, nor looked ahead.


Serene amidst the smoking ruins

Her homestead smoldered, memories now.

Twin sister with twisted brow

Anguished, hopelessly in fear.


The Son crucified on man-made tree

Spoke “it is finished”-victory.

Do we look with twisted brow

Or is his peace ours to stay?

                                   BY, JED N. SNYDER, Copyrighted.


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