THE LAST CAROL
By John Thomas Tuft
Cross my heart and hope to try, said the girl
As she pulled the tourniquet tighter on her arm
Picked up the needle and tapped it clear
Believing once again she can escape all harm.
Sitting on the side of the tub she begins to nod off
Her brain feeling like it opens to the bliss
But before all the glad tidings can arrive
She feels a touch on her face and a soft, gentle kiss.
Keeping her eyes closed she leans into this presence
Remembering herself as a child in holiday apparel
Sitting in a living room with loved ones real and warm
Never believing in dreaming, fearing rapture in the last carol.
She bends at the waist, her long hair sweeping the floor
Hope draining from her body, giving up the fight
As she surrenders to the call of this isolation
The room is suddenly filled with great light.
She feels the fingers of a tiny hand slip into hers
An annunciation of grace in her greatest hour of need
Is it finally the coming of all the lost angels?
The words of the last carol singing at last she is freed.