‘Father’

You are an enigma

A mountain summit with your head in the clouds

The twilight of a cold and foggy winter

Unrecognisable and inconceivable

You entered my life

Shaking half-asleep questions into waking

Preluding answers which life’s river may one day bring

Us to discover

Should the waters flow towards that ocean

You are black, unclear and confounding

This journey has felt solitary

For you were never felt, never sensed

Never seen or heard

Your hands failed to grip

My pre-adolescent wrist

Never quite felt the paternal loving touch I so long missed

Father,

My tongue cannot muster many questions for you

For I am now grown

And I have grown content with the mystery of you

I penned down these lines

Restraining back unsettled tears from eyes

Which look nothing like yours

The clarity that comes with melancholy

Fills my soul as solemn chords are played into my ears

I cannot help but sing of how wonderfully strange this world is

Life never fails to amaze me

Father,

Thank you…

For my still heart beats with passion and purpose

Funny how… things can work

Even when their seemingly vital parts aren’t functioning

A bird is still a bird, even when it cannot be elevated by its wings

The night is still night

Even when the artificial light steals away the sensation of being in the dark

With nothing but the moon beam and the stars illuminating what’s necessary to be seen

A daughter is still a daughter

Even without a…

Father, I like to write poems

Black, unclear, confounding poems

I’m obsessed with deciphering everything

And seem to fall in love with guys with rubix-cube like personalities

And for that, I guess I have you to thank

I like to write poems

In the dark, unsure and unclear

For it is here, where I find peace

Sitting at the edge of the chasm of life’s peak

Here, is where I admit that I am

Not all that I am

But what I am afraid to be… weak

Spilled out in the form of a prayer in poetry

Where I try not to be right

But understand that I am human

Here, is where I’ll choose to undress my pride

And risk it all to not hide what’s confined

Inside the holy temple of my mind

Here, is my Bethesda

I am weak, yet I am strong

For I discovered sufficiency in the grace of the Trinity

Here

And only here

Where my eyes no longer behold through rose-tinted lenses

Life becomes an unfiltered photograph I am analysing closely

What a piece of art it is

Woven together by Divine hands

This tapestry of bruised beauty

And I

Am simply here

Simply, thankful to be here

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