Wounds that bleed

Watching fathers clash with daughters.

The road is so rough and hard.

Words leap out to wound

hearts laid bare by ignorance’s brutal knife.

A daughter, she is only fifteen. She is bright yet struggles with her schooling. She, compared to a younger brother, he seemingly gifted and loved. I see – he is favoured, she outside, feeling longing. So the longing for love finds an answer in a friend, a little wilder than her father is willing to embrace. Failure at school and technology bring reactions. Accusations fly, labels stick, and love gets trampled in the fray. Triggers pulled continuously, barbed arrows landing accurately until only rawness separates two souls that really only long for love from the other. Tragedy is in the wings.

Another daughter older, grieving the pain of death.  A deeply empathic soul grinding through the tortuous journey of life in a broken world. Depression’s horizon seems to daily accost. The horror of solitude is now accentuated by the stifling actions of a father. His heart truly longs to embrace yet reaches out to fix and then control that which he can not understand. Actions, bring words that wound. Eyes become haunted believing lies. Journey’s spasm opening steps into ever more dangerous territory. Suddenly, almost irrevocably, decisions occur. Running away is the cry of a wounded heart. Sorrow in a panicked father only releases controlling actions that create even more distance and bitterness. Isolation reigns and trauma multiplies.

Watching, yet Hope breathes life.

Crying as the bleeding runs red.

Listening, if only to understand.

Sitting, as grief speaks loss.

Mystery, it is so hard to see oneself.

Change, so hard to comprehend.

Offering, to stand beside.

Knowing that wounds can heal.

Waiting for heart’s to ask.

Praying to break oppression’s vice.

Knowing each journey is not done.

Resting, I can only do my part.

Believing that light is stronger.

Knowing that love finds a way.

Loving, because love’s my life.

Being, the reality is mine to share.

Identity , comes with Father’s eyes.

Hope stays true to Love.

Love believes all and never fails.

Love takes action and begins to bleed.

Blood given freely, brings healing.

Healing opens doors to Love.

So I watch and Hope and Love.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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