This “poem” is a (rather poor) dramatic piece from Jenyn’s “Nail That Impaled” story. If you like stories in poetic form, read away. The written version is in an earlier post.
Our roof, damaged by strong hail,
was replaced by a roofing team
and the yard carefully de-nailed.
The kids, needing a de-steam
were sent outside by mean mom.
Jenyn, grumpy at being forced out;
Garin, happy, grinning and calm.
I ignored Jenyn’s whiny pout
and told Garin to run her about
as she hated exercise and play.
I did not have any doubt
he would let her sit or stay.
Garin took my wishes to heart;
poor Jenyn, in terror for her life,
was given a sudden 5 second start,
then wildly chased with a play knife.
The poor child, panting with fright,
jumped frantically off a rock wall,
then let out a screech with all her might
and began hobbling after her fall.
Embedded in her foot was a roofing nail!
Garin heard her loud screeches and wails.
Terrified, fearful of reprise, he began to cry.
I heard the screaming with great unease,
and ran from the house without fail.
For though Garin liked to nag and tease
he was not purposefully mean.
There had to be something really wrong
although I certainly never dreamed
to see my baby crawling along
and hear her anguished screams.
Sick with terror, I rushed to see
the nail imbedded to the hub.
Shaking, I grabbed her to me
and ran to the car frantically.
A crazy woman behind the wheel;
I tried to soothe my darling girl,
and cried for agony all too real,
my head in a disaster whirl.
Jenyn kept wailing incessantly,
“Bad Garin, he made me run!”
My guilt was just killing me
as the author of that “fun”.
Screaming help, ER staff ran out
and whisked her quickly away.
I could hear her terrified shouts
as I signed papers for insurance pay.
In her room, I heard her scream
“Mommy I have bad pain!”
No meds yet, how horribly mean,
as this child was physically drained.
Over the course of this horrible ordeal
the nail, embedded entirely through,
required a physician with nerves of steel
and with difficulty was forcibly removed.
The wound was packed and wrapped
and Jenyn’s big -“owie” quickly got well.
The evil nail, in a bottle trapped,
was kept as a reminder for show and tell.
We still have it with the x-ray;
a stark reminder of a horrible day.
To her the memory has faded away,
but for me it will painfully stay.
This experience made me realize
a mother’s calm maternal joy
is wrapped in a simple prize;
God willing, a healthy girl and boy.
Jesus, tortured, chose to endure
hour upon hour of searing pain.
Impaled not by one nail but four.
Jenyn’s nail in her small frame
gives her insight in what He endured.
And her testimony is her great gain.