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A place for poetry and ideas for the heart in pilgrimage. Pursuing ancient wisdom for the modern world. Dominus illuminatio mea.

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Father's Day

The mystery that I’m to be a painting I no longer see

R. Michael Spangler

Jun 16, 2024

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Father’s day is the note,
that I cannot hit
The puzzle piece,
that doesn’t quite fit

The mystery that I’m
To be a painting I
No longer see with splashes
Of gold and purple majesty

The law I never heard
But the onus is on me
To muscle up, take the hit,
Never miss, always succeed

And though I want that to be,
I’m a drab law-breaker, weak
In the knees calling out
“Father, won’t you please?”

“Take this cup from me?”
I can’t drink it to the dregs
So I trust your Son to be
The one who sets me free

So I rest this puzzle piece
For a puzzling peace
While I take your yoke and
Slowly become a steady oak