POET'S CORNER by Jeff Hartzer
#029: November, 2006
THE PERFECT FATHER
Making peace is the hardest part, the most difficult phase.
Making peace is the last part of the struggle.
When I can admit to my deep-down woundedness
I am touched. I am opened. I am ready then
for that rescue copter to come,to touch down, to lift me from the field.
Ready then, for that rescue copter to take me to that healing place
where cool hands touch skin cut rough with bloody glass
and the torn shards of a life lived in a lonely sort of way,
always afraid of the next hand slapped
those cutting words ... bad, bad, bad boy!
When I can really touch the blood, feel the gaping holes,
I am ready then to leave behind all of my own crosses,
and all of my machine-gunned memories.
I am ready then to walk the blue green beaches of winter
where waves break with fresh crests arching back;
where palm trees rattle their songs in the breeze and pelicans fly silent lines;
where the sky is safe: no planes, no tanks , no guns, no perpetrators.
When I can admit to my deep-down woundedness,
I will have touched the spark that no doctor can prescribe.
I will know then that the state of my own giftedness lies in rising up out of the well.
I will know then that the truth of it all rests in the gentle hands of the perfect father
who now knock, knock, KNOCKS at my door, and yours...
When you open the door, He is standing there,
the most perfect father you have ever seen.
He is in fact, THE PERFECT FATHER.
He will say to you, I'M HUNGRY MAN...
And you will say, ME TOO, LET'S EAT!
Then the Perfect Father will enter your home,
taking off his suede hat first while knocking the dirt from his boots.
And you and the Perfect Father will journey toward the kitchen.
And there, laid out before you both will be the finest meal you have ever seen.
A meal made in heaven and music will be playing:
something like THE AGE OF AQUARIUS or maybe, MANTOVANI.
Soon, your dog will bring slippers for you and your cat will follow
with slippers for the Perfect Father who looks at you now from across the table.
He says again, I'M HUNGRY. And you say again, ME TOO.
And together you sit down
saying SHALL I CARVE?
Jeff Hartzer © 2006