Are You My Father?

I feel like that little, lost bird;

only this time the question is slightly different:

"Are you my father?"

I cheep, again and again. 

Of course, who is going to turn away

a little, lost girl, desperate for love?

Oh sure, there are some;

but there are also people with hearts,

and I've encountered them saying,

"Yes."

But I must learn not to believe

every eager soul. 

For some are 

too immature,

too self-absorbed,

too ignorant,

too busy,

too wounded,

too ill-equipped,

too prideful,

too eager for power. 

I've searched

and I've given my heart away. 

Not to young, strapping boys,

eager to strip me of my innocence;

but to men,

strong, powerful, and wise. 

Or, at least . . .

I thought so at the time. 

But now I'm left

with a mangled heart

and a desire that still burns bright. 

I sit in my tears,

mumbling aimlessly,

"Are you my Father?"

Over and over;

again and again. 

And yet, there is One who beckons my mangled heart. 

One who knows my deepest desire. 

One who is waiting for me to ask Him,

"Are you my Father?"

Because He won't even have to answer. 

He will sweep me up into His arms and hold me tight. 

And I will know--

as He gently cradles and heals my heart--

that this Daddy is mine

and I belong to Him.