REQUIEM.
I bring an aura of solemnity to this day when Fathers occupy the world stage as the focus of attention.
I invite you to read and contemplate these poignant words penned by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, author of Women Who Run with the Wolves.
FATHER EARTH.
There is a two million-year-old man
No one knows.
They cut into his rivers.
Peeled wide pieces of hide
From his legs.
Left scorch marks
On his buttocks.
He did not cry out
No matter what they did, he held firm.
Now he raises his stabbed hands
and whispers that we can heal him yet.
We begin the bandages,
The rolls of gauze,
The unguents, the gut,
The needle, the grafts,
We slowly, carefully turn his body
Face up.
And under him,
His lifelong lover, the old woman,
Is perfect and unmarked.
He has laid upon
His two million-year-old woman
All this time, protecting her
With his old scarred back.
And the soil beneath her
Is black with her tears.
THIS IS A TIME OF UNFATHOMABLE CHANGE. CIRCUMSTANCES DEMAND US TO DISCARD OUTMODED CONCEPTS AND MINDSETS. OUR IMMEDIATE SURVIVAL RESTS ON STRATEGIES THAT ESCHEW SELFISH BENEFITS TO FAVOUR THE WELFARE OF MANY.
How we denigrate each other must cease.
It's time to disarm. Our senses have become weapons of mass destruction. Uncaring spirits seem to roam the earth in a ghoulish daze leaving residues of pain, sorrow, and distress everywhere.
The fault can no longer be the burden of anyone, group, race, sexual preference, or political persuasion.
There seems to be a pandemic of global mean-spiritedness.
FATHERS EVERYWHERE HAVE SILENTLY SHOULDERED THE PAIN AND SWALLOWED THE UNWEPT TEARS OF THEIR GRIEF AND WOUNDEDNESS, CLINGING TO USELESS RAFTS OF MANLINESS.
We can mourn for those who died in service to false gods and begin the healing necessary for our collective survival on this Father's Day.
WHERE DO WE COLLECTIVELY BEGIN ?
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