A tribute to men for Father’s Day


The hunter awakens, each morning in his search,

Through the forest he plods, to the deer-blind, his perch.

The early morning dew, water splatters his boots,

Venison in his dreams, for their dinner he shoots.


Many people depend on his daily pursuit,

Hungry stomachs to feed, he must be resolute.

The deer skin will buy cloth; his wife, kids’ clothes, she’ll sew.

Bear fur can buy a stove, seeds, for a garden, grow.


He must cut down pine trees, to build walls for their house.

He then must build their roof, shelter for his dear spouse.

On farmland, seed he sowed, but months wait for the crop.

Back to the forest, he. The hunter must not stop.


Seasons of snow and ice, he tromps forward, booted.

His icy breath, he sees, the forest, still, muted.

Seasons of heat and sun, long days of haggard thirst,

All the pressure, severe, he battles Adam’s curse.


Immense struggles of mind, “Why is this all so hard?”

“Am I the only one?” These doubts on him bombard!

“This surely isn’t fair! Am I over my head?

This isn’t what I want. It’s failure that I dread.”


Satan’s a hunter too! Invisible arrows,

Fiery darts he shoots, flying like small sparrows,

To land in heart and soul, to knock us off our horse,

Discouragement his aim, to steer us off our course.


The hunter, the hunted, trials, battles abound.

Futility haunts him; his frustrations resound.

Battles within, without, each day with its pressure,

The hunter doubts himself; “It’s all past my measure!”


All this difficulty is meant to make a man.

For strength he does not have, above the stars he scans.

As he humbles himself, new power discovered!

Character galvanized! A new man uncovered.


Face your days! Face your fails! Face your fears! Face your woes!

Face your doubts! Face your ails! Face your loves! Face your throes!

Stand up strong! Courage, now! March ahead! Be a man!

Love must win! Virtue take! Hope alive! Take your stand!