My father’s kingdom his castle;
I inherited his strife, witnessed
years of control and submission
felt used, undervalued, robbed;
Was overinvolved responsibly,
misunderstood the nature of his
anguish, drew attention to myself
interpreting his pain as personal.
Our Father’s mansion (no place
for inanimate objects) nurtures
wisdom, recalls neglect, reflects
on life choices, lack of wholeness.
I am called Home, lifted from
old stories, see the youthful
exaggeration, adult immaturity
have a lot to learn – like a child
throwing a tantrum – emotional,
disappointed, destructive – hurt,
lacking constructive perspective;
need to dwell in a house without
walls, free from guilt of neglected
obligations, wounding relieved
by the light of a greater purpose.