My Father, now in heaven, Harold was your name.
Your fists would come, Your will would be done,
In your house, as it was in your father’s.
You gave me each day my daily fears
For which I cannot forgive you
As I am not forgiven by your enablers.
I can lead them not from their comforts
Nor deliver them from denial.
By questioning your kingdom,
Your power and your glory
As I will ever,