I Am My Father

By Richard L. Provencher

Sun, 25 Mar 2012
  • 1177 reads
4 comments
 

except for his heartache after
war’s end in ‘45. Then
booze captured him with
wear and tear
learning to live again

images of bombings
in Dresden
and other people-places
when the enemy was crushed.
They’re now our friends.

But, good times I remember.
Fishing among the
mosquitoes
swimming at Moose Bay
and trips to grandpa’s cottage.

I’m grown now, a man of graying
years, with wisdom
about sacrifices he made
when life wasn’t quite
what dad wanted.

Kept going, he did, until the
end of breath.
Dad passed on. I’m here.
And his words still come to visit.

© Richard L. Provencher

Certificate U
POETRY - A Passage of Motion 2
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by lavadis on
My dad was on the run throughout the war and I don't think his life turned out the way he would have wanted other than perhaps 15 years after the war. He was a sad individual I hardly knew and the war touched him in many complex ways I will never understand since he died when I was 11. I amy greying now like you and was touched by your words

 

Submitted by Esther on
I to was touched by your words.

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Thank you for your very nice compliment, Esther. Richard LP
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Hello Lavadis, thank you for reading and commenting on my poem about my dad. Mom said before WW 11, dad was eager, only a social drinker, ambitious and family oriented. After 4 years in the War he was the opposite, and like many families we were very dysfunctional. It took me 40 years to forgive my dad, and although it was in private I expressed my thoughts, it felt like a lead weight lifting from my shoulders. He's gone now, of a massive heart attack in 1999 and I understand him much more, and think mostly good thoughts about him now. He was a Canadian Air force man (RCAF) seconded to RAF Bomber Command during the Battle of Britain. He only spoke about the war to me about fifteen minutes, period, and summed it up saying---orders were to pulverize everything and everybody in targeted German cities (carpet bombing), and off went 1,000 bombers at a time, many of them built in Canada---then he saw the splattered remains of too many allied air men scattered all over shot to pieces bombers (Unknown to many people, bombers had to fly in formation no matter what)---and he knew these same bombers also hit too many allied troops on the ground (something you never read about in the papers). Did you know approximately 250,000 Allied airmen were killed or wounded, just attacking Germany from England? I really feel good writing poems and short stories about my dad, even though some are fictionalized. Why not try some of your own stories for your own songs, and/or short stories and poems? All the best, Richard LP
Richard L. Provencher