fatherless,
i do not know of this burden.
breaking and molding and hurting and winding…
wondering where the hole will cement
behind bars,
violent reds staining floors,
absent words
looking for some connection – some admiration
missed dances,
missed delight in white dresses
and
princesses seeking rescue
only to find rescue a farce -
used and left for another
again.
what do i offer?
able-bodied and sure
innocent to this wound
that festers and crookedly heals
fatherless,
but Abba came.
taking the place of those left
healing the jagged scars
and
putting together the wounded
piece
by
broken
piece
fatherless,
i do not know of this wound
but Abba does
and
Abba steps in
protecting and defending and
Rescuing
empty made whole
broken made complete
fatherless,
what can I offer
but Abba.
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