Dear Father

I can't help but wonder of your thoughts

since you've journeyed so far.

Has it changed you; are you slow to anger,

slow to find fault?  Judge with a softer heart?

 

I'm curious the things you've learned,

assume you're finally willing to listen,

not caught up in rules you can't explain.

 

I'm truly joyous, imagining you embracing

such elation, blue eyes clear of disappointment,

perhaps seeing me for the first time.

 

I sound as if I'm criticizing,

but it's more a pleading, a youthful desire

still nestled deeply to be free of insecurities.

 

Perhaps it's not too late.

Until I too close my eyes for the last time,

know that you are now in my prayers.

 

It's a good place for us to start.

 

Your daughter,

 

Margaret Bednar, March 1, 2018

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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