I belong to an email “poetry circle”. When the subject “Fatherhood” came up, I replied, “I have only seen fatherhood from a distance" (Dad was a bit knocked up after the war) "and being single myself …”. To which my Vicar’s wife replied,
“Come on Liz! If you can’t write about your own father, you have observed other fathers over a lifetime - and there is always the Heavenly option”.
Well, I didn’t write about my Heavenly Father, but I did write something, and in view of the fact that it is Father’s Day on the 17th June, I though some of you might like to read this:
My Father
Two photographs
Ten years apart.
In one, they stride
Along the promenade.
He, with curly hair
And laughing face,
Strong, vigorous,
Loving arm gripped
Around the little
Lady at his side.
She, can step out
Strong - He is there
To help her keep
Her feet in canvas
Sandals, though
Her steps are weak.
And now it is their
Wedding day. How
Grim he stands. A
Promise made, he
Keeps it. She wears
Blue, so dark it brings
A shade, made deeper
By the angle of her hat.
Khaki declares the
Reason for this change.
A soldier now, the
Curly hair all gone.
In the years that come
Only seconds give a
Glimpse of that so
Lovely smile. A husband
Come - a father gone
Before I ever knew him.
A shadow in the corner
With eyes that saw
Only pain and death
And loss of people
In that war. Things
He could not share.
But one golden
Glimpse was there,
As in patriarchal
Fashion, he gave
Thanks for food
And named his God
His “Dear Redeemer”.
Elizabeth S Wells
