Missing

Forgive me, Father I miss you.
The central role - the power it has, the spot was never filled.
The podium lies bare and inhabited. I don’t believe in God, but I believed in you.

Forgive me, Father, I never knew you.
The holy trinity - my mother, aunt and grandmother.
My blood was never forgotten - your memories are passed on through stories they've told me.

Forgive me, Father, I’m waiting.
Pacing through the pews, I wonder if you’re behind me.
Full families fill them; chatter and warmth surround them.
I wait in line for my biscuit and wine - I’m old enough now to drink the blood of Christ.

Forgive me, Father, I am trying.
I am trying to fight the lines of morality, and I am losing.
His hands are big and shoulders broad; I grip his grey hair with my weak hands.
His figure, stature, stance. It’s what I've been missing.