Dads and Doors

I have my coffee and my comfort.
Bed and bath, 5 and 10 steps away.
1,023 friends, 506 followers,
A pretty good $37k or so in retirement
And big, safe, locking doors
To keep it all un-movably inside.

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I have everything I want.
Not a reason to cry.

Then why do my eyes well up
when I read David’s desperate words,
His mouth dry and clothes torn from him
By friends turned to enemies
That are pounding down all his doors?
He is crying that he has nothing left
Except a desperate clinging to You.

That is what I don’t have.
And I think that is why I cry.

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The part in me that is meant to stay child,
It is that lonely child that cries
Because I’ve locked out
The one that was meant to stay Father.
And maybe a son is the most important thing
I am really, forever meant to be.
But I’ve Locked my Father out behind big doors
To protect all my safe desires.

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I want to love you, Father.
Come in, and move in me.
Take away what you want.
I want to know what it’s like to cling to you again.

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