I want reparations
Dad you abandoned me as a child, left me defenseless against a world full of wolves....long story short, for every month of my life you did not help to support me when I was your little girl, I want reparations.
For all the birthdays there was no gift and no father's love (which was the gift I dreamed of, what I truly wanted I want reperations.
For all of the Christmases when there was no gift and no love, I want reparations.
For the time when I saw you driving the city bus (PAT transit) and you pretended to be happy to see me when I got on your bus with my aunt; you gave me your phone number and then disconnected your phone, by the very next day and I want reparations...I was only nine years old when you did that to me, how in the name of all things decent, could you treat a child that way...I want reparations.
When I was five and you worked at my school and you wouldn‘t even acknowledge me as your daughter, when I walked up to you that day with my little friend and asked you if you were my daddy...you stared at me as if you wanted to tell me to take a hike. I was in kindergarten, a baby, and you humiliated me, I couldn‘t understand why you wouldn‘t answer me...why you wouldn't back me up...see cause when I told my little friend you were my daddy, she argued me up and down telling me no you wasn't cause you never said anything to me or paid any attention to me...I want reparations.
When it came time for me to deal with men and I kept trying to get you to love me--in these men; but I kept picking men who like you did not love, value or want me.
But, all along I tried to win your love, gain your love, make you proud enough of me to want and love me... and I want reparations.
See, cause had you been there, and been good to me, had you loved me dad...as soon as a no good man came into my face I would have known to tell him to get back, kick rocks, hit the road, get lost...Cause see dad I would have compared him to you...and...well see...you were my hero, my superman...but you threw me away...and I loved you purely, totally, deeply, unendingly...and I want reparations.
For the guns you did not clean in front of the boys calling on me, for the fear you did not put into their deepest heart over me, your daughter, for all the boys you never ever told me were just not good enough for me I want reparations.
For all of the benefit of the doubt that I gave to men who did not deserve it, but since you did not teach me this by your example I did not know and for your negligence I bear every scar...and I want reparations.
For all the years, birthdays and holidays you were not there, for the nights every one of my childhood nights you did not not kiss my forehead, shoot the boogeyman in the closet, check under the bed for monsters and tell me goodnight after tucking me in...I want reparations.
For your empty chair at my wedding, for your absence at my mother's funeral I want reparations.
For every moment I longed for you to love me, even well into my thirties, for every tear I cried, for every time I have asked and wondered why...why no love for me...what did I do wrong.
For all the time since I got grown and thought (maybe now since I am an adult and not a child, and it ain‘t gonna cost him nothing but a little time and love to be around me and in my life )...now...maybe he‘ll want me now, I want reparations.
I want reperations, I want reperations, I want reperations...for it all....I want reparations.
Momma is gone now...But YOU STILL OWE ME...AND I WANT REPERATIONS..........DAD.
Dad, when I was a very young child, there was this window I used to look out of, thinking of you, daydreaming of you and my life, as I dreamt it could have been if you had loved me. A life in which, when trouble brewed, you protected me dad...not momma... but you, I don't think that was her job, I think it was your's.
You were the one supposed to help my momma raise me and protect me...you.
I would sit there looking out of that window as the snow came falling as a gentle blanket from heaven and I would imagine that rather than the snow falling down, I was rising up...to a safe place, a place where I was loved, a place and a life where you were, protecting and loving me. Already I held in my tiny heart, the sting and battering of being repeatedly molested, often hungry, seldom loved, frequently tormented, where reservoirs already dammed up raging rivers of tears just behind my tiny brown irises...if you look closely you can see this little girl's smile seems just a bit out of place...and there are tracks down her little face.
---Dad, I will begin now to pray for you that you will come to know the Lord Jesus as your Lord and savior before it's everlasting too late, I want you to know that I forgive you and I want you to know the Lord and His mercy and His grace, the same mercy and grace that He shows to me each moment, I want you to see His face in peace dad, He's been so good to me that I can't help myself but to want the same for you.
Don't misunderstand me when I say this, but I don't need you to love me anymore and I don't need you to love...Jesus didn't even steal your thunder, you despised it and He chose me for His very own...and He has given me a dad, a mom and more brothers and sisters than I will ever be able to count, from all nations in the world, I have 200 right here with me each and everyday, the rest I can feel, though they be scattered throughout the earth, cause we are one body and one spirit and we love each other with His love, and dad it is this family I want you to be a part of, and I will see you when we both get to heaven........it's all about love...all about love.
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