Fatherless leaves a child incisive and acute-minded.
Brightened by pain, we grow.
A cord breaks, snap!
And we learn,
How much of our life is choreographed by your absence.
Oh father, the abandoned have become spoiled.
With a joy lit by pain’s flames, we writhe and twirl,
Stumbling through marshes thick with the promise of green.
Trespassing, we attempt to understand ourselves.
Digging wells to god,
With the flush and flood of awe.
Let us become before you:
A resurrection, a revelation.
Oh Christ, we are your fatherless children.
Damn your successors of papal authority!
With their saturated quotes that leave us dry and unseen;
ossified words, that use and bore us.
We will be the ones dancing under the ginger blooms,
Cut and used, perfect.
We will be the ones, capturing ourselves from the fall.
We will be the ones.