get the June 2014 108 page cc&d magazine
1994-1997 anniversary
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me, a child in church with daddy
(the sacred scars of his heart)
dan landrum
Rumor was, daddy was an Easter&Christmas Christian,
way back when.
I only knew’m to be a huntin’n’fishin’ pagan.
‘cept this one time,
the only time I ever saw daddy in church.
(They’d later say the Devil made’m do it!)
It was a special service, just for the two of us.
We walked briskly through the nave to the altar.
“Don’t be a feel,” he whispered, “Don’t hide your pain, feel your feelings!”
“You know I grew up without a daddy of my own...”
turning the underside of his wrists up at me.
“See, son...”
I saw a zipper-track of scars transversing a mound
the size of a walnut.
I ran my tiny fingers over the disfigured flesh.
“What’s this, daddy?”
“The nerves I cut never grew back together...
I have no feeling in this hand.”
“Why d’ya do that, daddy?”
“I was confused.”
“Why?”
A sudden change cam over my daddy;
his eyes, red hot coals - glowed,
his words - hissed, steam from a kettle:
“You’re now ready to see, son... that’s why we are here.”
He gouged his massive fingers between his ribs,
wrenching his manly chest wide open,
exposing a bellowing heart. A heart
encrusted in dancing scars, the dancing
flames of Hell -
in full technicolor -
bigger than life!!
“See, son.”
“Oh my God, daddy, I”m sorry, I’m so sorry,”
I cried.
I stood for the longest time - stunned,
me, a child in church with daddy
exposing the sacred scars of his heart...
“Daddy, will I too have to live this pain?”
“No, sweetheart, you won’t.
I won’t let you...
You will never be born.”
