Saturday, March 3, 2012

To my father

You went to war at seventeen
and left your soul behind,
in sundered grief and jungled
hell your life was so defined.
You brought the demons
back with you, to huddle
in the light, of creatured
days, and angered hours,
of deep and desperate night.
Like sunlight in refelection,
through nature's canopy,
I glimpsed on rare occasions,
the man you might have been.


  1. What a beautiful poem/story Roslyn. I can only imagine the grief and loss which would have been experienced by all concerned. The pain and despair are palpable. 'I glimpsed on rare occasions, the man you might have been'. - There must have been an element of bitter-sweetness during these times.

    1. Thanks AC. Ah yes, the best he was and the most I saw was during three years when my mother was in and out of hospital with a nervous breakdown, sadly not her last, when I was a child - he was wonderful looking after the four of us, with my help - but it did not last. He died quite young - 55 - our relationship was always very complex but better in the few years before he died.