Father
The hearth's crackle,
Its glow on the wall,
The TV bellowing,
“Oh! What football!”
The Fall all around me
Father.
Father brought me this.
Father loves his boy,
The muted boy – Chris
My name is Chris,
But to me it don't matter,
'Cause I'll never get to say it
Father.
Father made me this.
Father muted his little boy,
And I don't know why
But the breeze that surrounds me,
Icy, rustling the trees,
And lake that ripples,
Mirrors the sky
Father gave me this,
I don't know why,
He made it for me,
But I'll never cry,
“I love you Father!”
“You are my Joy”
'Cause I, Chris,
Cannot utter or sttuter,
I'm the mute boy,
That Father made
I stare down the hallway,
Longing to sing,
Like Joyce or Craig,
That Father had made
I find myself wondering,
Why Father had made
A boy with no voice,
To “sing praises” or hymns
But demands of me love
I lift my eyes to the mountains,
Looking for help,
My resentment so fierce,
The Lion's attracted,
I lift my angry eyes to the mountains,
And notice their majesty,
Crowned by the sun
Father made them,
Though they cannot speak,
They give Him praise,
As I realize,
I'm so ashamed
---
What d'ya think? I'm worried it's too long, naggy and repetitive.
