Happy Father's Day.
Abraham took Isaac's hand and led him to the lonesome hill.
But they were not alone in their hell.
While his daughter hid and watched,
She dare not breathe. She was so still.
His unstable mind was even more fragile and breakable in the hands of the devil. She could see what others couldn't, because she was just like him. If they knew what she knew, that would be the end of the three of them.
Just as an angel cried for the slaughter,
Abraham's daughter raised her voice.
Danger lurked around every corner. No longer was her quiet, boring life. She had anchors strapped to her ankles and was being pulled down, down, down, quicker by the minute, the last bits of air being squeezed out of her lungs.
Then the angel asked her what her name was,
She said, "I have none."
Identity lost, she was not the girl she once was. Tragedy had corrupted her; she had lost her faith and innocence long ago.
Then he asked, "How can this be? "
"My father never gave me one."
They replaced him and filled her head with new ideas, sometimes worse than the old ones, but she was taught that was alright. They shared a special kind of bond.
And when he saw her, raised for the slaughter,
Abraham's daughter raised her bow.
Stronger, braver, cunning and quick, this was how he wanted her to be. Sheltered, safe, warm and happy, this was what he wanted her to be.
How darest you, child, defy your father?
Which one?
You better let young Isaac go.
As if she could control anyone.