Oh Father

Honor thy Father and thy Mother,

but God didn’t think of you when

writing the commandment.

 

Oh, Father.

How I prayed for you to call,

and how I would cry when

there was no messages from you.

 

Oh, Father.

I always questioned what I did

to make you not love me, and

what I did to make you treat me

this way. You said your neglect

was what’s best — was it for me or you?

 

Oh, Father.

Why couldn’t you stick up for me when

your wife tore into me, and stirred up

the pot. She said she did it for you,

for us. But, she ended up ripping the

bread and dipping it into acid instead of wine.

 

Oh, Father.

Does it bother you that you never saw me grow up?

Does the amount you’ve missed ever

hurt you like it did me? No rites of passage —

no prom nights or high school graduations.

No elementary school finger paintings or

middle school angst. You walked away

from it all. And now, you’ll miss walking

down the aisle with me, or a father’s

first dance. You missed the chance

of knowing me. You may blame others,

but it’s no one’s fault but your own.

 

Oh, Father.

I must confess.

It bothers me.

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