i have struggled, father,
since the conclusion of your account,
and most times, when my eyes opened
upon dreadful way stations,
skin stretched tight over a belly rounded by new life,
hope seemed like forgotten lore,
a tale vaguely remembered from early years
spent in the company of eternal dreamers.
but hope is surprisingly resilient,
and has no predetermined finale,
believers will carry it with them
unto planes intangible to mortal flesh
and will be born and reborn upon this
the realm of our existence,
returned to those of us who have lost faith
by wielders of infinite possibility,
fragile vessels conceived of obliged procreation,
of dutiful continuance.
o father, do not doubt,
the long years have returned hope to me,
embodied in progeny much labored for—
son who is now as a sapling, limbs long and bare,
fresh,
daughter who is as the essence of simplicity and delight,
what glory—
and misery be damned!
take flight an go you to reaches beyond,
i will not suffer your tainted love
for even one sunrise more!
and father, i forgive you the long years,
i forgive your abandonment of me
while still i moved through the haze of youth,
know that you were as to me a mountain,
all that held me together while you were still alive.
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Words Much Like Poetry
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Father, Over the Long Years Posted: May 9th, 2008, 12:54pm CDT