If God Were half the Man

When Dad tells me he loves me, there’s nothing left to say.
To me it means a wealth of things because he knows I’m gay
And loves me anyway.
If God were half the man Dad is, I think I’ll be ok.

A boy of ten and prone to sin, my Dad would chasten me.
And when in bed, he touched my head and said that he loved me
And he was proud to be
My Dad. He had, when he as mad, a righteous empathy.

In later years, with many fears and awkward youthful woes
Dad came to find I had in mind a different kind of beau;
And even then he chose
To let me grow and come to know a love my very own.

I can’t imagine how he felt to know I killed his dream
Of burping bibs and bouncing kids up high upon his knee
But never do I see
A trace of disappointment or resentment over me

At twenty two I had to move and set out on my own.
My Dad agreed but if I needed to, I could go home
But further I did roam
To taste the fruit and further mute the stranger I’d become.

With broken will and broken heart I prayed and made the call
When desperation pulled apart my soul after the fall.
And it did take my all
To speak the words that must be heard, a ruined prodigal

My Dad a man of little words who rarely offered tears
Hung up the phone and hit the road and closed the gaping years;
and quelled my raging fears.
And once again he called me friend, assured me “Son I’m here.”

And to this day, although I’m gay, My Dad’s my biggest fan
He tells me so and even though he’s old, he understands;
And loves me like Dads can.
And God would love like Daddy does if God were half the man.