I AM MY FATHER poem

By Richard L. Provencher

Tue, 07 Jul 2009

I Am My Father

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.