I Have Heard It Said

[This one is for my Dad.  

{...only read this one when you're sure you've slowed the moment down}

Over the years I see more and more how he is just a {wonderful} man who was once a young child that morphed into a punk like me in his twenties, and then found himself a father... without every answer and every perfection. ...And I have to be okay with that somehow - if not for forgiveness and acceptance of those who have come before me... but for myself, for my friends, and loved ones around me now and in the future.

We all need one another in this life... to help, encourage, forgive, raise, and love... always.

                                                                                                                                      <3 ya Dad,

 - C]

I Have Heard It Said

“Come, all you weary,
     All you wonderfully made.”
I have heard it said,
     that it takes a village to raise a child.

Come, all you weary:
     Imperfection is a requirement.
I have heard it said, 
     that it takes a village to make a man.
        ...Imperfection is a requirement.
Earthy craters, chasms, and cliffs

      shamefully hidden, ignored, or blindly overlooked
         cause us to fall, unaware of their depths.
     Could they be glorified in their wildness -
          the beautiful blemishes of a wild world?

Come, 
     all you wonderfully made:
     Imperfection is inevitable.
Come child,
    You will fall.
___________

Scraped Knees...
Come.
     For only with the blood of a fallen human life,
           can the lesson of grace be taught,
               felt,
                    passed,
     through generation.
          Grace of the Father
        to grace of the father,
        to grace of the next father.
You will fall.

Scraped knees.
Come.

But...
    what happens when that child grows?

I have heard it said
    that it takes a man to raise a child.

Scraped knees.
Come, says the father.
         Hold,
              blood to heal.
But…
    what happens when that child grows
         and still gets
    cut…
____________

What happens when that child grows? 
     Who is charged for negligence when he stops
growing taller
          and is forced to go alone?
          He is forced to go alone  –
               too big to be held
                    but still needing,
                         still scraping –
                         falling under the weight of the world.

Come,
     all you weary –
          all you men –
               falling,
              tripping,
          in the beautiful blemishes of a wild world. 
Imperfection is inevitable.

I have heard it said 
       that it takes a child to raise a man.
Come,
      says the child.
Hold,
      blood to heal.

__________

Kissing the knees of the fallen
            reminds him of his own
                           wounds,
                      needs,
                 longing
                      for a healing kiss.
     Time lets him grown tall -
               height only making it harder to fall -
          not teaching him how to avoid hitting the ground. 
Come.
 
     How dare it be said that the 

fall of man is his 

fault alone.
     How dare a man bear his 

burdens alone...
     For the kiss of grace is needed as long as there are
            scraped knees.
The Father's open arms would be left empty, alone,
     without the son's return.
          Both in need of a kiss,
               both empty alone,
                    both imperfect without 

the other.
No more 
alone.

All you weary,
     imperfection is expected;
     imperfection is beautiful...
          because
                grace can enter


                     with a kiss...

...We can enter with a kiss.

Earthly grooves shamelessly, guiltlessly, wonderfully displayed...
     Wonderfully made...
We do not hide them,
     cause our children to fall –
     ourselves to fall –
          mowing the wildness;
     hiding the potholes
          from our own eyes.    
Wonderfully made:
          the beautiful blemishes of a wild world.
______

I have heard it said that it takes a father to make a father
          to make a father.

Imperfection is a requirement.
Imperfection is beautiful.
Come man,
    You still fall,
“Come…”
    Says the man,
    Says the child,
         You fall.

I have heard it said,
“Come.”

(p.s. a couple of literary notes: You can interchange the gendered words, and the poem still works just as wonderfully... well if you feel it is something wonderful, anyways! ;))]