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Father
by James Barringer Father My feet pound on the dust terrified I know what I've done, and I know if he gets his hands on me I'll be annihilated in a moment So I run, on toward the horizon Trying to find someplace Anyplace That he hasn't beaten me to But I trip, I stumble Sprawl head over heels over elbows on the dirt And lay there, disbelieving, pain rushing over me Pain from my bloody knees and pain simply from shame And I see him sprinting toward me, but I'm Too stunned to flee Marveling as the hands I thought would destroy me Are the hands that pick me up and hold me gently to himself Jim Barringer is a 38-year-old writer, musician, and teacher. More of his work can be found at facebook.com/jmbarringer. This work may be reprinted for any purpose so long as this bio and statement of copyright is included. Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |