Father
… the father who stood by me; and
… the father who left me wounded.
… the Father accepted me as I am
with all my imperfections
… the sound of my distorted laughter
… the pain in my cries of mourning
… the loudness of my pride in times of distress
… the rudeness in my voice everytime I complain; and
… the vile words I utter in contradiction of His plans;
with all my inabilities
… the faintness of my voice when I wanna fight for my truth
… the shortness of my hands when I reach out
… the shallowness of my understanding when He speaks to me
… the weakness of my love, and the cynicism in my faith
All these… loving me still.
… while this father that the Father gave me as a gift became a pain
instead of taking care of me
… has broken me into bits of pieces
… has shattered my dreams of completeness
… has evoked incomparable hatred
… has questioned my upbringing, when in fact, I grew in his absence;
instead of sheltering me
… has left me in the open groping for love
… has brought me so much shadows haunting my childhood… my youth
… has outlined my path with so much emptiness; and
… has deprived me of the chance
… the chance to love him despite of and in spite of
... whatever difference there may exist in between
… the chance to forgive him face to face
... alive and breathing
… not in a glass-covered casket
… unresponding…
Yes! He left me…
… not just once or twice or thrice
but left me many times I can no longer remember
… call it selective memory or forced amnesia;
but I can vividly recall as loud as my cry
… as clear as my tears welling from my eyes
that this time, when he left
… there is no chance of returning; and
… he carried with him my luggage
… of hurt
… of loathe
… of grief
All these… loving him still…
©Marjo Josue
