Live out
Live loud
Live strong
And those like you
Will laugh in relief
That they are not alone
That they like you
Can be who they were born to be
And can do what they came in this world to do

If you're sure
then take the first
and maybe even
a second step
until I'm within the incomplete circle
formed by your arms -
until I can lean
until I can rest
until I can answer
with my cheek on your chest
and press forward
in my own time stepping forward
moving in time
and in time completing our circle
that caught me here

Not reaching
Not arriving at

but going through,
continuing past
this end

on to the next

ready for any number of ends that I may meet and greet and then pass, thanking them, but not being held by them

saddened by them
but not brought down by them

rather, finding myself a lot stronger and a little wiser, I walk on to find my end that will always be ahead of me past these ends.

Fathering involves running,
reaching out at full stretch,
as they get to the edge

Fathering involves running
close and distant alongside
a first bike ride

Fathering involves running
meeting them more than halfway
to reduce the faraway

Fathering involves running
to more accurately display
a father’s love
that will not go away

Fathering is being ready to run
all day

Sometimes
what's offered is enough.
Sometimes
what's needed is less
than you anticipated
and you can live
with yourself after all.

Look, we’re the victims here!
You said multiply.
Well – that’s what we did.

You said fill the earth.
Well, it looks pretty full now, doesn’t it.

You said subdue.
Well, that’s what we’ve done.

You said never again.
Well, looks like we’ve taken that out of your hands.

We’ve increased and multiplied to bursting point.
We’ve subdued this earth with a world-beating chokehold.
We’ve out-numbered the wilds into a final submission.

And no amount of talk about stewardship,
or responsibility, or choices and free-will
will change the facts:
We are not responsible for flawed design.
This earth is not fit for our purpose.

-

What?
What manual?
What users guide?

-

No-one reads that.  Have you seen the size of it?
It’s full of technical details -
I don’t know anyone who could understand all that!

-

What Quick Guide?

-

You mean Jesus!?!  
Okay – fair point.

But can we have our New Earth now?
Please?

The sun sank down at dawn
The finch returned to its nest
The crocus postponed all plans
And peace went back to her bed

The light might come tomorrow
The birds may return in song
The flowers can rise in the new Spring
And there's hope to be had erelong

Not too rushed
Timed to perfection
Esmee defies
accepted convention

Highly acclaimed
Deeply loved
Esmee embraces
a kiss and hugs

Deeply rooted
Highly adored
Esmee savours
her first long yawn

Her father's reach
Her mother's voice
Esmee combines
warmth and joy

In pride of place
At home at rest
Esmee sleeps
her family blessed

There's immortal.
And then there's
Eternal.

I've read of immortals -
I've read of their exploits, their battles.
They bleed.
They agonise.
They fall.
And one day
they fail to rise.

Eternal is different.

Eternal bleeds,
agonises,
falls
and dies
only to rise - Eternal.

Stop
Sit
Rest
Share bread
Drink wine
Remember together
And celebrate -
Because - I'm - coming.

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
The creator of the ends of the earth.
Do you not know?
While what you see around you is temporary,
while those around you may not be as dependable as they might at first seem
there is someone who is never flaky,
someone who does not disappear at the first sign of trouble
(or for that matter at any signs of trouble).
Someone who remains when the going gets tough,
someone who stands with you whatever,
someone who goes before you wherever,
someone who is never fazed by what lies around the corner
because He's been there.
Even if you go to the ends of the earth
He will never grow weary,
His understanding will never be exhausted
for He created every beginning and every end
He lasts -
He lasts lifelong.

even with tears I still can't forget
slowly emerging from years of regret
clearly recalling the start of it all
the soul-felt promise forsaking it all
may I be able to make a new start
still accepting the truth that love played a part

That I may understand every good path
That wisdom may reside in my heart
That knowledge and discretion may be my guard
This is my prayer to you, my guide and my God

A rabbit with a pipe sits in their shared space,
like there’s nothing that might move them unless they acquiesce,
like they have no better things to do than do exactly what they’re doing
and they’re doing what they do best
- contemplate the next word, the next note, the next sweep of their pen,
the next throw of the clay and the colour they have chosen to inject
into the next page, the next dye, the next stitch, beat, thread, chapter, adventure
that their maker has placed in their minds eye and it’s then that I realise
that in every moment they’re carefully holding a myriad of holy inspirations
and contemplating their ordering so that beauty may abound
so that their beautiful God may breath out yet more of the Creation.

The rabbits sit smoking their pipes
content in their shared space,
like there’s nothing that can move them
unless they acquiesce,
like they have no better things to do
than do exactly what they’re doing
and they’re doing what they do best

- contemplate the next word, the next refrain,
the next sweep of their pen, the next throw of the clay
and the colour they have chosen to inject into the next page,
the next dye, the next stitch, beat, thread, chapter, adventure
that their maker has placed in their minds eye

and it’s then that I realise that in every moment together
they’re carefully holding a myriad of holy inspirations
and contemplating their ordering
so that beauty may abound
so that their beautiful God
may breath out yet more of the Creation.

It's not the scale it's the detail.
It's not the breath it's the depth.
It's not about how much you gave.
It's more about how much you kept.

Did you give when you had too little to share?
Did you stop when you had no moment to spare?
Did you feel the difference to your rainyday fund?
Or did you budget to ensure there's enough to go round?

When you gave this month, did it cause you to pause?
When you stop to do more, do the angels applaud?
Have you learnt the habit of living on less?
And fostered the gift to give to excess?

All I'm suggesting is a little more thought.
Look at your spending, at what you afford.
Is there more room for a little adjustment?
Would your life be the richer with greater investment?

Next time you stop
next time you give,
is there room for some change
in the way that you live?

I entered love willingly - and with a little trepidation,
but definitely with the intention to explore,
to gorge through each room in the home of my love.

As I dived deeper along the passages,
through the portals that beckoned us,
we laughed
and I found my lung capacity for faith grew
and my sense of direction only strengthened.

And as I climbed heavier, taking pleasure in the view,
taking breaths and trying to hold in
her high perfume,
I never once wondered where her flight might take me
knowing only that my choice took me
with her.

I entered love willingly
and not once did I fall.

Make your unwanted advances
- on the ****** predators.
Place an uninvited unmistakable hand
on the casual grazers
the brokers
traders
*** negotiators
anyone who assumes
his entitlement
to sate his primal appetite
by right
anyone who
coaxes
cajoles
coerces
controls
in order to pick away
at a vulnerable soul.
Now's the time to shout
to call him out
and expose him
to unforgiving light
reversing the shame
in bare plain sight.
And there you'll find
you don't have to fight alone.
No, he'll be shown that
you were never on your own
and together
we can show society
that we stand defiantly
claiming the right
for all to live beautifully
free of each and every
pathetic
*** starved bully.
Come out now
and claim your life
and live it truely fully.

Ezra James isn't the first
and certainly won't be the last
to go to sleep to the wonderful sound
of family having a laugh

Ezra James isn't alone
and will never have it be said
that he resents having to share
a bath before going to bed

Ezra James isn't afraid
of darkness after lights out
he knows for sure his brothers are there
of that he's never in doubt

Ezra James is safe and sound
he's certain of where he belongs -
loved by brothers, loved by God
in the heart of family Sibuns

The inside me often disagrees
(sometimes violently)
with the outside me

See, they have very different perspectives
different standards
different - … ,  
well they're just different.

They've both had it difficult,
but in different, very distinct ways.

And that leads to differences in opinion and to opposition.
Opposing views, opposed decisions
that in the end they need to resolve
(however reluctantly),
to agree where they disagree.

Agree a way forward.

If you think the outside me would prevail,
you have been deceived and failed to conceive
just how much the inner man can conserve
energy until its needed to win the day

And so the outer me concedes,
(not defeat, but a passing loss),
because in the end they're in this together.
Inner or Outer.

A toss of the same coin.
One of us winning whichever side comes up,
whichever, whoever ends up on top.

Like I say, don't be fooled by the outward façade.
Take the longer view.
Look at the heart.

'No,' she said, as we waited, 'that’s not right.'
Not fading, but returning, rising through
full spectrums of radiant light until,
to the human eye it appears to fade
       (pale white to a silver grey)
but it simply steps into a vision
that is reserved for keener eyes than ours.
       (like ultraviolet)

Not fading, but transforming, travelling
at a speed forever known as its own.
Always keen to get home in a fit state
to enjoy a few hours with its feet up
by the ebb and glow of its evening fire
       (red with blues and greens)
before rising, rested, to greet the dawn
recharged with the full force of the sunrise.
       (bold yellow and blood orange)

No, not fading.  That fails to see the truth
that it’s taking paths through deeper shadows
       (purples and blues mostly)
which our deceptive eyes struggle to grasp
and in our weakness, it is lost to us.

Then she gasped, and I saw that she was right,
the light didn't fade, but it stepped ahead
waiting at the next bend of hope’s rainbow.
       (a glow of pure gold)

Fairies knit tales, but they don’t have tails, I don’t think.  
Dog’s do.
Long,
with an abrupt end – that’s usually moving,
while never escaping its tether.
Is that the idea? – that no matter how far the tail goes,
it will never get out of hand.
Unless it’s docked of course – that is the saddest tail,
a stump of a tail that still tries its best,
but is destined for a short and disappointing end.

If I were a dog without a tail, I think I’d think it was the end of the world.

If I were a fairy without a tale – I would be sadder still.

The End.

It was the ghosts that told me.
Not so much with what they said
(this was as vague and off key as usual),
but with their strange mood,
their furtive glances at the sky
and their insistence that autumn was close,
though it was still July.

It was the ghosts, their eyes, and their insistence
that led me upstream, closer to the mills
where industry began and poverty took a turn for the worse.
And that was where I made song,
because song can mend plenty of ills and causes
the root of all kinds of evil to fade and give way
to community and summer.

And you know community is never wasted
and summer is always welcome.

And I found that the next time we supped together,
sitting by the stones, just beyond the spring,
in the cool of the first August evening,
the ghosts were looking more rested, less furtive
and more inclined to sing.

And so we sang.  So loud the foxes and fairies complained.  
(But with a smile and a dance, so you know they were just playing.)

Faith is a choice
Not a compulsion
Not a feeling
It's a decision
And it has to be made
by you.
So make it.

The certainty that gives
the clarity to see
a path lies beneath
the current uncertainty

I felt myself begin to fall
in love with you but
I arrested that emotion
and returned to the equilibrium
of my life for one
- adhering to unambiguous instruction
- thankful for it's simple
red amber green ration
- grateful that I had avoided
the flood of voices
that inevitably follows the falling.

I'll have to be more careful.

The exchange of smiles
The greeting nodded
We return to our papers
No words needed

it takes an uncommon mind
an ability to think at an angle
someone who's not been a stranger
to an occasional maniacal giggle

a willingness to set your own pace
a relaxed approach to normality
if you can embrace all of this
count yourself part of the family

Proper good
Plenty loud
Mighty big
Deeply proud

Mega fine
Shiny bright
Scary close
Family tight

There's a home I know where you'll find a hallway
Full of shoes and possibilities.
And an at-the-door a greeting leading to a family
Of amazing abilities, excelling in humility
Which I think is key to the near lack of hostilities
(given the number of siblings).

There's a home I know, crammed full of creativity
Exhibiting an intensity of ability
To fill the week's itinerary with spirit-led opportunities
To reflect their creator-charged curiosities
Feeding into gifted virtuosities
And long stretches of physical activities.

For example: you can taste it in the culinary.
Sense it in the musicality.
Hear it in the scratch of poetry.
See it in the smiles of story.
In the sighs of reading deeply.
In the care of cutting edge art creatively.
In the assists that deliver with accuracy.
In the allotment, tending their nursery.

You can see it in the inter-connecting
Found in faithfully praying
Hands holding, heads bowing,
Tears intersecting while seeking
The Father's counselling
And while boldly telling
Of the sudden joys and blessings
Encountered in everyday living.

Here's a family I call family
Who quietly live passionately
With no apology for the sincerity
Of their love and their daily seeking
Of their Father's leading.

Here's a family living godlily
Pointing to a greater glory
With the church-wide family
Where we'll all be feasting
At the great family wedding
Eternally.

We share the pleasure of a shared joke based on shared experience in shared lives, with no target to speak of, but with a simple open mockery of the value we place on our own shared past, whether unique to us or shared wider with our middle aging generation or perhaps universal to all humankind - a past we hold close but hold lightly lest it slip away from too much introspection and over-close scrutiny, but still a past that bears the shared weight of hearty family laughter, full of love and belonging.
Quaking, I finish with the gravy jug, catch the hesitant drip with my forefinger and pass it on, enjoying the richness of this moment.

I watched, fascinated, at each Stag standing,
legs splayed wide, chest expanding,
one hand playing pocket billiards,
the other cupping an imperial panetella,
or the odd ***-end of a king-sized silk cut.

I watched each **** strutting, squinting
against the improbably impressive smoke signals
emanating from a side grimace, indicating
not just contemplation of past glories,
and an absent kin,
but a surprising level of self-congratulation
and not solo signals, but a tribe-wide cloud of pride,
bellowing in resonance, creating a crescendo of
'you just know they would have loved this'
coupled with an elaborate semaphore display
that would put any plume of peacocks to shame.

My family gathered to mark their history,
to reinforce a crucial coupler of family territory,
to shout their quiet authority like ancient royalty,
as monarchs of this urban manor, their laughter
rising in assumptive victory, leaving no doubt
that this clan would face all future threats
with no more than 'a quiet word'
and a micro-assertion of their claim
over their ancestral turf.

I watched my forever-family,
my forever-England, planted secure
in my ever-after summer,
on this once green, scorched earth.

Auntie Janet asked me to say hi and that she doesn't blame you.
Grandad sends his regards and says he needs a little more time before he can see you.

Pete says hello and he'd like the long skewers returned if you get them back.
Mary sends her apologies and says you can keep the hachette.

Mum says you're invited to Uncle Bert's funeral if you're up to it. She'll deal with Uncle Arthur. 
Sarah says to thank you. She and the baby are doing much better.

Jim said he'll see you when he gets out. He owes you a major one.
Dad says you were right and not to beat yourself up. What’s done is done.

The nurse says you need to rest. It’ll take as long as it takes.
- Do you want those grapes? Don’t want them to go to waste.

I've written straight with crooked lines
Told truth true with white lined lies
Quenched the fire with months of dust
Healed your wounds with salves of ****
There's nothing here that's as it seems
The river will slow farther upstream

I find humans fascinating.
Confusing, frustrating - yes,
but fascinating.
Take a look next time you're out.
Watch them carefully.
They are
- fascinating.

Maybe you’ve gone with Moss Bros
Or you’ve stuck to trusty M&S
But I can point to a surer way
to ensure you’re dressed for success

No matter how long you’ve spent
Adjusting your silks and laces
No matter how hard it was
to talk him out of his lairy braces

Whether you selected a Windsor knot
Or your favourite velvet bow tie
[A bold choice, Toby.]
I can share some well-worn wisdom
By which you should always abide

I know a dress code tested by time
Simple words to which we should hold
Simple but essential for all of us here
So let’s check we’re all properly clothed

Next time you’re walking down the red carpet
And they ask, ‘Who are you wearing?’
There's no need to look for the neckline label
Don’t waste your time with checking

Every day you both put on Christ
You kit yourselves out with the King
Knowing this is all that you’ll need
For whatever the day will bring

But like royal robes or battle armour
His garments come in layers
Put them on in careful sequence
Buttoned up with tailored prayers

You begin with feather-lite Compassion
Laced with silken Kindness
It’s followed by soft Humility
A garment that’s forever timeless

You add to this tough Gentleness
That’s core to the Saviour’s style
With a lining of weighty Patience
So you can each stay versatile

You ensure the ensemble’s been well steamed
With a fierce, cleansing Forgiveness
You set the dial high enough
To remove past creases of grievance

Now, some might think this will be enough
That that is ample fussing
But there’s one remaining layer
That you know isn’t worth you rushing

Over each of these rich garments
to keep them all in place
you put on the strong bond of Love
like a long full-body embrace

Then whatever the weather or season
on each and every occasion
You can both enjoy the Peace of knowing
You’ll never need alterations
*
You may have heard it said
And with Thanks we can affirm
Some fashions do remain timeless
And this one's designed for long term

Fathercraft
has been passed down
from father to father
losing and gaining
at each slow bequeathing -
less heavy-handed there
more soft-hearted here
as each generation rejects
the disciplines of the past.
So much so that I wonder
what's left of the original art
and what we've lost.

This is my food for thought
as I feed my daughter -
crumbled digestive
with mashed banana -
perhaps a favourite of mine
and my father's,
while she grins and chortles
blowing biscuit dust
and spittle bubbles
with absolute child-delight.

Food for thought
as I drink in her smile,
wipe my cheek
and laugh along,
prolonging the rare perfection
of this father moment.

Father-craft has been passed down from father to father,
losing and gaining at each slow bequeathing.
Less heavy-handed there, more soft-hearted here
at each generation’s rejection of the disciplines of the past.
So much so that I wonder what's left of the original art
and what we've lost and what we've gained.

This is my food for thought as I feed my daughter
crumbled digestive with mashed banana -
(Perhaps a favourite of mine and my father's.)
- while she grins and chortles, blowing biscuit dust
and spittle bubbles with absolute child-delight.

Food for thought and thanks as I drink in her smile,
wipe my cheek and laugh along, prolonging
the choice perfection of this fathering moment.

Blessed are the father-hearted
The reluctant to be child parted
Blessed are the bushy bearded
The happy to be pulled and smearded

Blessed are the on-all-fours
The role-players with scary roars
Blessed are the rollers on floors
The willing to ignore both knee-sores

Blessed are the hearty laughers
The bellows of the not by half-ers
Blessed are the childlike fathers
And happy the children who follow soon after

Father is a verb
It's not a noun to be worn like some crown
It's not an honorific
It's a doing word beyond what you do with your ****
It's not some name that you automatically deserve
Believe me, fathering is a lifetime of a verb

Father is a verb.
- Let me explain:

Father's Day; and
Father Christmas
have tried to convince us,
but don't be fooled:
You can, may or will father,
depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.

It only works in the transitive;
you can't father alone,
only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort
when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume
drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard
with jokes on recycle.

[insert joke here]

Yes, father is a verb.

It's something we each do,
despite the hour,
it drives right on through
the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten finger nails
to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation.

It turns manliness
into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength
with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.

Be sure, whoever you are,
it works in the singular:
I can father;
You can father
    (I'm not talking *** here;
     that takes a partner.)
But also,
-  it works in the plural -
we can father;
and they can father,
because, you see, in this village
it's an joint activity:
we father (and we mother)
collaboratively.

It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "LATER!".

It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter;

sometimes active:
directive, protecting;
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening;
...holding, and, hugging;

it responds to need, you see,
but works best proactively,
works great
sacrificially.

For example,
though it cost him dearly,
God Fathers us
and through us daily.
And one day, suit pressed,
He'll proudly walk
with the bride of Christ.
And as Father of the bride,
He'll host the party and blow the price;
(- BIGGEST - bar-bill - EVER)
And we'll be sure to save at least one dance
for Father.

Oh yes, you heard,
Father is a verb.

Father is a verb.
- Let me explain:

Father's Day; and
Father Christmas 
have tried to convince us,
but don't be fooled:
You can, may or will father, 
depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.

It only works in the transitive;
you can't father alone,
only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort
when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume
drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard
with jokes on recycle.

[insert joke here]

Yes, father is a verb.

It's something we each do,
despite the hour,
it drives right on through
the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten finger nails
to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation. 

It turns manliness
into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength 
with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.

Be sure, whoever you are, 
it works in the singular:
I can father;
You can father
    (I'm not talking *** here;
     that takes a partner.)
But also, 
-  it works in the plural -
we can father;
and they can father,
because, you see, in this village
it's an joint activity:
we father (and we mother) 
collaboratively.

It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "LATER!".

It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter;

sometimes active:
directive, protecting;
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening;
...holding, and, hugging;

it responds to need, you see,
but works best proactively,
works great 
sacrificially.

For example, 
though it cost him dearly,
God Fathers us
and through us daily.
And one day, suit pressed, 
He'll proudly walk 
with the bride of Christ.
And as Father of the bride, 
He'll host the party and blow the price;
(- BIGGEST - bar-bill - EVER)
And we'll be sure to save at least one dance
for Father.

Oh yes, you heard,
Father is a verb.

Father is a verb. -
Father's Day and Father Christmas
have tried to convince us, - but don't – be - fooled:
You can, may or will father, depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.

It only works in the transitive.
you can't father alone, only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard with jokes on recycle.
(insert dad joke here)
Yes, father is a verb.

It's something that you do, despite the hour,
it drives right on through the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten fingernails to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation (with an ill-suited hat on).

It turns manliness into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.

Be sure, whoever you are, it works in the singular:
I can father; You can father
    (and I'm not talking *** here;
     that mostly needs a partner.)
But also,
-  it works in the plural -
we can father; and they can father, because, you see,
in this village it’s a joint activity:
we father (and we mother) collaboratively.

It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "later!". -
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter.
sometimes active: directive, protecting.
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening.
... holding, and hugging.
It responds to need, you see, but works best proactively,
works great sacrificially.

More specifically, in the end it’s a doing word
not a noun to be worn like some tilted crown
It's not some post-coitus reflexive honorific
It's a feat way beyond a sudden beget.
Father’s not some title that you necessarily deserve.
It's one that's sorely earned.
Please believe me - that’s right, you heard,
father is a present continuous, long lifetime of a verb.

Storm-stilling fury and wreaking ball laughter
Lie still now,
Encased in his pale, goliath frame.

Harbouring agony rather than giving an inch,
He faded a morphine-dose further,
Withdrawing himself as only a father can,
And made his last withdrawal.
Finally releasing me
to follow no model but my own.

I look in the mirror and what do I see,
pure imperfection staring at me,
curiously wondering, wonderfully curious
at what new imperfection I soon will be.

I've found it's important not to be perfect
not replace imperfections for better or worse.
it's when we make peace with our faultless defection
that godly perfection starts getting to work

Do we really need
all the friends we can get?
Are we truely better off
not knowing?
Will it all work out
when we get to the end?
And do we need to get tough
to get going?

Dan was a vegetarian-wiseman
A three square prayers a day man.
So deep in the den Dan stuck to the plan
And ended the night as he began
With ALL his limbs no less than
Before the lion became his new best fan.

Now the king saw Dan was no mere stunt man
So he sent out an urgent all points telegram
And overturned his ill-concieved prayer ban
(Which was previously proposed by a bunch of conmen)
And he told the people of EVERY clan:
"We must ALL fear the God of fearless Dan".

Striving in fear
or living in favour
Feeling the dread
or hearing the angel

Psalms 23
1 The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.

In the presence of my enemies...

IN THEIR FACE!
Right there in full view,
where they can't ignore it -
You lavish your favour.
You flourish extravagance.
You banish restraint.
You shout exuberance.
At the prepared table
we feast together -
a glass sloshing,
chin dripping,
teeth staining,
finger licking,
shirt smearing,
belt loosening,
belch competing,
mouth spilling,
song inducing,
mum tutting
FEAST!
- right there
before my dumbfounded enemies
and in your glorious presence.

You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.

Let's talk about your father.
How did that make you feel?
Let’s talk about that.

It’s okay, take a breath.

How did that make you feel?

Breath. That’s right.

Tell me more about that.
Did that make you feel afraid again?

Breath. Good.

Can you tell me more about how that felt?

That’s right, breath.

How do you feel now?
Can we talk more about that?

Deep breath.

Is that you?
Or just your memory of you?
There’re both real.

Breath.