I come home to a message
from the smelly detective
who wants me to come to the station
delivered by my father in somber tones

no other details
I feel scared
like I am the one in trouble

I sit with my dad on the couch
my head against his shoulder
not knowing what he thinks or feels about any of this
and overwhelmed with
fear
anger
shame
guilt

dad whispers only one thing in my ear,
more to himself than to me
“For surely, O Lord, you bless the righteous;
you surround them with your favor
as a shield.”

I cringe at the word righteous
but linger in my dad’s arms
hoping that God will hear his prayer