Now I understand a father I forgive
A father who died as he sadly lived.
In nineteen hundred and thirty-nine
Some two score years and none
He went to war with a knapsack,
Some hard-tack biscuits and a gun.
He saw bombs and bullets in some army billets
And an enemy on the run.
Six terror-stricken years
Amidst blood sweat and tears,
And a multitude of understandable fears
He was a prisoner of the Hun.
Who knows what that does to a man’s mind
I can’t even imagine what it would do to mine.
He came back from the front skin and bone
Written off for dead he was all alone.
And all of his dreams had long since gone
Leaving him standing all on his own,
It can’t have been much fun.
And now looking back I kind of understand
Why he was how he was with eight kids and a wife
Undernourished, underpaid, under stress, undermanned,
Screaming and shouting under his command.
A man goes into himself, and it seems underhand,
But all he is doing is trying to understand
How he lost his dreams in some foreign land.
I look at his parched old photograph
He and Mum having a laugh,
Thinking of the future they planned,
Being forced to lose it in some faraway land.
And I forgive him for his lack of interest
In the scruffy little kid whose life he cursed
And whose life he blessed
I look back to that early war-torn dawn
When I think I lost him before I was born
When he turned his back on his future wife
To become embroiled in another’s strife.
I love you Dad I always did,
I just wish you were here
So I could tell you when you hid I felt your fear
And now I understand, oh yes, I understand.
All you could play was what you had in your hand.
About the Creator
Author/top writer/editor for various Medium publications (2020/23).
Author of 12 books of short stories and poetry. Out now on Amazon.
Three times Top Story on Vocal Media (June 2023).