~Hope~

On Sundays, I listened in the very front pew
As the preacher told us how much “God sure loves you”
And “God is our father” and since fathers are love,
Children would understand the love from above.
The children in church smiled at fathers who beamed,
Yet I sat alone, and just wanted to scream.
I’m sure Pastor Mateus believed that a child
Would equate Father God to a dad’s love so mild.
But for me, I related a God who was mean;
Who would find me and shake me and spoil all my dreams.
For if God our Father is like dad on earth,
I didn’t want to know Him; too much would it hurt.

Growing up poor in the smallest of towns,
I never had much - just my mother around.
But Mama was busy – much too busy for me.
She had to work hard for her children to eat.
When Dad wasn’t drunk, he was loosening his belt,
Relieving his stress causing his children welts.
My father’s large hands were a frightening sight -
Not for caressing, but for fists poised for fight.
No one to love me, and no one to care.
I wailed to the heavens, hoping God would just hear
The cries of abandonment (as broken hearts do),
Yet there came no answer. God abandoned me, too.

The decades will pass. Mom and Dad, then.
Yet my unhealed scars won't be buried with them.
That burden I carry will not be released.
And often I tried to be deceased.
Of all my emotions, not one has been joyful or free.
I lived off the anger that burns inside me.
No one to love me, and no one to care,
Until finally I found someone wondefully rare
Who taught me of love and fullfillment and joy,
That will make me a mother of a sweet little boy.
For IF God's love is bigger than the love I now know.
When I cradle my son and feel joy as he grows -
Then the pastor was right about a "parent's love",
And the best of all dads - God, the Father above.