Eight Years

Today we sat,
I sat next to you
And you sat next to me.
We talked,
I talked and you listened.
But mostly
You talked and I listened.
You spoke of life,
Eight years
And yet you have known more heartache
Than I ever have
In all my twenty seven years.
You wept
At the pain of your father's hands.
Hands designed to love and comfort
But in his brokenness
He hurt and wounded you.
And then he left,
Leaving behind a gaping chasm
Between father and son.

So I pray,
I pray that one day
You would know the deep love
Of your Heavenly Father.
That the sting of pain
Made known by your earthly father
Would be soothed and forgotten,
Forgiven
In the sweetness
Of the knowledge -
The depth
The height
The breadth
The weight
Of Jesus' great love.
For you,
His child
His beloved.