Loving Father

I suffer.
In love, I watch my children.
Son plants green cacti,
deep into the fine, brown soil.
Pleased – eager.
He learns, looks to me – curious.
Daughter marvels at orange, red,
yellow marigolds during summer.
I hug her.
She points.
Son prays.
I weep, wail.
He kneels.
Young, I know.
Daughter bows at feast time.
Sunshine, rain – the day
need no matter among children.
Disease throughout me.
Restless emotions – poverty
is my wool blanket.
Though the belly is full.
Our Father is revered –
always!