I don’t know how (and that’s ok)


my God
my God why have you forsaken
my child memories are good unfortunately
my father is an infirm recovering alcoholic who’s born again
my dad was only occasionally abusing
my brother slipped on the sandals
my fathers walked on
my mother cannot bear to remember
my bruises have healed
my scars linger around
my family cannot talk without acid dripping
my friend’s blood somehow covers
my boiler room hiding place where I slept at night
my ancestors, I don’t know who, victimized
my brother victimized
my loved ones want to bury this but… I don’t know how
my friend’s blood somehow covers
my child-eyes take it all in. kids don’t miss a beat
my own falls victim too
my inner child falls victim too
my mind holds all of this. I don’t know how
my sense-of-humor masks and can even salve
my fear, pain, insecurity surface without warning
my heart suffers chronic breakdowns. aching when it rains and alone
my family suffers intermittent raining
my friend’s blood somehow covers
my broken-self envies the happy home
my restored-self loves
my confused-self struggles daily
my logical brain analyzes
my heart re-lives everything from the safe distance of time
my writing gives my child voice breath. I don’t know how
my friend’s blood somehow covers
my children love Father’s Day, giving me cards I will never buy
my Father’s day is called Easter by everyone else I know
my friends and my family make God’s love tangible in my life
my love for my enemies is weak most days
my love brings solace simply by placing her head onto my shoulder. I don’t know how
my friend makes all things new.

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9 Responses

  1. “my savior makes all things new.”

    Yes, and though “I don’t know how”

    and in some cases “when”

    He does, and will

    Thanks for the reminder (so beautifully and vulnerably shared =),

    D-

  2. Ric, your poem of life makes very compelling reading.

    I hope you future is represented by the last lines:

    “my love brings solace simply by placing her head onto my shoulder. I don’t know how
    my savior makes all things new.”

  3. Hey D, yeah, when is a mystery too… except lately I think it is everyday and all the time but I simply fail to notice it as such.

    Hey Ed, my future and, I glad to say, my now too. Thanks.

  4. Very heartfelt poem thank you for sharing with us. I also pray that you would experience “all things new” in your life.

  5. Absolutely stunning and moving. Thank you. And such a great tribute on this week–“my Father’s day is called Easter by everyone else I know” Ahh–enough to make your heart sob.

  6. Thank you, Brad.

    Hi Annie… and that is why I had to post it now.

  7. Wow, I like this a lot. A LOT.

    I sort of wonder if we have similar childhoods after reading this? 😕

  8. Thanks Brandy, glad you like it. Sorta glad, I guess, since now you seem to relate too closely with the content.

  9. […] My Father’s Day is called Easter by everyone else I know… […]

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