My Dad... a poem

I love my Dad.
I used to think he was bad.
Not a good Father...
just a big bother.

But then I came to understand
that he was doing his best with the band
constricting and binding his mind, heart, spirit and hand...
and he didn't know to demand
that it release and submit, the whole strand.

I can see the bonds and yet they remain.
My hands bound and upon them a stain.
I see what he could not, yet I did, him, blame.
One cannot put out a fire if onecannot perceive the flame.
Yet I see and know the heat and it still burns as my shame.
My efforts puny to end the curse and break the chain.

Formed over generations the curses were made.
A debt in heart, mind, body and spirit laid.
I could never be enough to get this debt paid.
And I lack understanding of how to access the cooling shade
of our perfect provider and Savior who bade
consume of Him for all debts have been prepaid.
Yet still I struggle to cut loose with a dull blade.

My Savior has already done the work
through the Atonement, it's a huge perk
of being human, the gift was given if I will not shirk,
to accept it fully and no longer lurk
in the shadows of believing myself to be a jerk.
The weight of generations is enough to make anyone berserk.
Yet I hold on to past sin, pain, and other merk...
Rather than release it to God and let Him do his work.

Show me how.
To release the curses past and my sin of now.
I would be a new me, If I did I'd vow
to become new with a sprinkle of fairy dust and a magical POW.
But that's silliness, I know, holy cow!
I just want to be new, Father.  It's been here all the while.  Wow!
Please, Lord, before Thee, I bow.

December 5, 2014