Metaphor: God as Father

I Know Where My Father Lives

“I know where my father lives,” she said –
Near as a poem or a warm hand
Safe and close as a child’s
Soft breath against the sheet
Near as this lithesome flower
Bedazzling the new light
Surprising the world with the wonder of her blossoming –
Like every good thing,
Like every well-made child of earth,
Fragile, but insistently becoming,
Delicate, but unswerving in her
Light filled, sun bound purposes.

“I know where my father lives,” her dark eyes said –
Far, far as the faintest fleck
Of waning half light on the blackened brink;
Distant, distant like a vast expanse of continent
That lies between a father and his little girl,
Distant even as the father’s clouded face
That sees a daughter’s need and turns away
Compassionless.

I know where my Father lives:
Near as the loving heart
That, young or old,
Seeks kindred warmth,
Creates well-being;
Distant as the human face averted,
A child’s letter returned, marked
Moved, no forwarding address.

- Paul Martin

(The previous post describes the incident this poem was based on.)