ST153 ... Fathers

I think about them; a little more today.

Fathers, they come in various forms. We all hear about the loved ones, especially here, but there are the many crowned with thorns, the ones that never had a chance, that were destroyed before they became a father, wasted out on the streets of hell, lost their way quick. I praise them for being alive, tired and disputed, torn and true.

Fathers were taken away when the machine became the factory, taken off the land where young boys and girls once learned the ways of the soil, the ways of life. The connection was lost, the fatherless society creeped into the city streets; it's been this way for century and two.

I think about the fathers that were condemned for being male, the molesters, the molested, the sick scenes hidden thru-out our culture. They also have a heart, broken, despaired, deeply wounded, cursed. They are not without blame, with out stones hurled thru time and mind. They are the tortured ones, the fathers lying in a ditch. Some should never have lived, insane, hard to love, possibly impossible.

Fathers accused, abused, blamed maimed tamed and tortured. These are the fathers that need the healing the most, love from some sacred light to shed upon their souls.

There is the father in all of us, male female young and old, the beautiful, the ugly.

I think about them; a little more today…. a prayer.

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