Father Wounds Lyrics

For the past 8 years

You texted me on birthdays and holidays

And never received a response from me

At one point, I wondered if you asked yourself

Why doesn't he get back to me

For years, I mulled over a question that

Once shackled my wrists and my ankles

How would he feel knowing that the child he helped create

A portion of his flesh and blood was in fact

One of his worst nightmares manifested

That his son is gay

Would you be proud of me

Would you support me

Would you believe in me and my dreams

Would you protect me from a world that looks to do me harm

Or would you join them in cursing my existence

Would you blame my mother for this failure

Would you hold me responsible...accountable for your absence

Would you learn to hate me more than you already dislike me

Have you ever liked me

Have you ever loved me

And not the, I took care of you, didn't I

I taught you how to craft the noose around your neck called your tie

I thought I raised you better than that kind of love

Have you ever loved me with kind love

You love me in the image of the god you worship

Like him, you love me under conditions.

You love me as long as I fit in the space of your comfort

You love me through threats and punishment

You love me harshly not through gentleness

I'll never forget the day you took my belt in your hands

You told me to strip naked, lie down, and wait

The silver buckle, firmly tucked in the center of your palm

With that black, braided belt, you raised your arm

And struck my back with the force of your anger

Each lash crackled like black lightning as pain

And confusion coursed through my senses

Like cattle, every strand that whipped across my backside

left me branded with your rage. I cried terribly

Not understanding why you were doing this to me

And as the crescendo of my wails and the snaps of that belt

Tempered to their lowest decibels, I hear the shower running

You tell me, "...now go take a bath

We're going to the movies when your Mama gets back

You were wise to ruin me when she wasn't home

I remember the water scalded my rawed 9-year old skin

The tears streamed down my cheeks faster

Than the droplets from the shower head

My mother came in, livid at what you'd done

As any good parent should, she consoled me with gentleness

Later that evening, as the movie reached it's melancholic conclusion

I remember tears being birthed in my eyes

Rightfully so,...I think someone died in the movie

But, those tears dried up quickly when I felt you grip my wrist

When you noticed, a subtle reminder of what

Would happened to boys who cry

For many years, I carried father wounds

Resentment and hatred formed the callouses on my heart

I once thought I was cursed to love and make love

To other men as a punishment from god before

Hell would welcome me with warm embrace

But through many trysts with these men, I learned that

They too, carry father wounds

Burdened with being "enough" of something

The masks of masculinity tightly woven into

The fibers of their skin, the stitches tainted with

Aged and bitter blood. Unscabbed wounds that ache

Groveling to be healed

Visceral cravings to fuck and be fucked

When in truth, they want to be held and be seen

Hardened hearts that, when in another's arms

Soften for a feeling they mistake for what they long for

Love

I think of the boys turned men who cannot love

The boys turned men who fuck women but yearn

For the love of another man

The boys turned men who don't give themselves a chance

Because their fathers never gave them one

The boys who were shunned and coddled by their mothers

The boys who hurt other boys, in search of male approval

The boys and men who feel things that

They don't know how to talk about

To the boys and men who always knew they were...a little different

The boys and men who haven't unlearned violence as their love language

The boys and men who were taught to tame their smiles

The boys and men who question the way they walk with uncertainty

The boys and men who hide their battle scars

The boys turned men who bond over their war stories of father wounds

I think of them, because I'm one of them

Unraveling each and every thread as I learn and unlearn

The question, of being the gay son, once anchored me to coarse pavement

But as I learned that God is not fear nor a jealous Judge

Who punishes for amusement, but is, instead, a Divine love

Who guides and offers grace, the chains transformed into

Withered, tattered ropes. And as I forgave myself with kindness

The ropes decayed into ashes

Being carried away by the gentle breath of life

I no longer carry many of these scars as luggage

Life gives me enough to travel with

Instead, they are engraved onto me like tattoos

They are songs that contribute to the soundtrack of my life

They are one of many bursts of wind to cool the sweat on my brow

Reminding me to dance to the rhythms of love, hope, and freedom

Father Wounds