These are words I couldn’t share before,
Trapped in a growing earthen mould not yet equipped
To express the gravity of the thoughts that linger
And roam in the depths of this immortal soul.
I’ve seen things stranger than fiction
And heard things that cannot be put into words
I’ve taken steps falteringly, seemingly aimlessly
To a destination that couldn’t be surer.
Each night as we slept the tears flowed.
I can’t deny that it shows –
The pain we’ve been hiding.
How do we say goodbye?
I can ignore your feet on my table, darling;
But not the name you keep calling
Every night when you moan…groaning till waking, saying;
‘Ah, Adriel, my little baby…why won’t you come to Mummy?’
To fathers – past and present.
To the past, a tribute; to the present, an ideal;
Because it would be a truly sad world,
When the best Dads are the dead ones.
“My father, my father, the chariots of Israel and its horsemen!”
A teacher whose words marked the path to the destinies of generations;
Fell along the way, leaving only a silent lifeless landmark
No more will I hear him whisper from behind, “This is the way. Walk in it.”
I refuse to recall the dirge about ‘how the mighty have fallen’;
When I cannot find your trusted well-oiled shield’s protection.
There’s a song – wordless;
It haunts me at odd hours,
And brings tears to my eyes;
It wrestles reason to the ground,
And dances all over my emotions;
‘How beautiful it is for brethren to live together in harmony’;
A beauty unmarred by offenses, unbroken by distance,
Unforgotten through time, to be desired the harder it is to maintain;
It is like the sound of heaven’s choir with perfect harmonies;
It is the song of victory of the saints separated by times,
Sang across generations, eras, dispensations, and covenants.
I’ve been charged with being unworthy;
Unneeded, unwanted even before birth;
Destined, not for this life or the next;
Overstaying my welcome; Overextending my reach;
Overestimating myself; Misappropriating resources;
Underplaying my flaws; Overemphasizing Grace.
I admit that I’m guilty;
But guilty of nothing but being loved, wanted, saved,
Appreciated, needed, understood, celebrated, precious;
Guilty of having to leave too soon; Underestimating myself;
Under-using Grace; Abusing my strengths; Hiding behind my flaws;
Sabotaging and badly misjudging the extent of my reach.
To err on the side of love is to be acquainted with pain;
It is akin to the fate of the moth – enthralled by flames
Of compassion, empathy, kindness, patience, humility.
To err on the side of love is to realize
That you do your fair share of dishing out hurt,
Angst, apathy, ire, discord, heart-break, doubt;-
Usually inadvertently, but harmful nonetheless.