I am calm and aware -
in a state of grace.
My Father comforts me
with a strong hand on my shoulder.
I know love,
because I am loved.
I know patience,
because he is patient with me.
I know forgiveness,
because I am forgiven.
I know mercy,
because he is merciful to me.
I will not be afraid
wherever I might take a step.
He stands behind me.
I have powerful generations and ancestors
to keep watch over me.
In a state of grace,
I will not be cowed.
I have been given summertime.
I am thankful for the larks, and the robins,
the earthworms and the pill - bugs.
The peonies, lilies, and black - eyed susies,
the sunflowers, tulips. and roses,
he made their heavy scent for me.
I will not mourn them when they die in autumn,
nor grieve for the grass when snow consumes it in winter,
nor expect the springtime as my birthright.
I will accept it as his gift to me.
If my feet are dirty,
let my feet be dirty.
If my hair’s a mess,
it shall stay messed.
I am God’s man,
he walks with me.
I will be soft and merciful.
Peace lives in my heart,
and I will live
in a state of grace
wherever I may step.
Submitted by conect11 on 11 June 2007 - 9:22pm.
Style / Type:
freeform
(1 vote)
deeply moved, I cried
Conect, I applaude your courage in writing so deeply and honestly without a trace of cynism. Must admit though the poem kicked up some aweful feelings for me. I hated my dad. He referred to me as “dogsbody”. And on his deathbed he blamed me for his heart attack, worrying about me being a poet instead of a businessman. But that’s my stuff. Reconciliation would have been redemptive but I somehow doubt it could have ever happened. I am glad there are good Dads. Fortunately my Mum gave me many of the things you talk about.
Father's
I’m sorry to hear about your father. I never knew mine. The Father here refers to God.