Saturday, November 19, 2016

What My Father Taught Me.


He stood tall and facially hairy
In that 70s style with thongs
Short stubbies and a singlet
Kicking a ball to me
Applauding when I caught
Consoling when I dropped
Disappointed when I kicked it back

Lesson: if you want approval, learn to kick

Our dog Sandy had pups one night
We were ushered in to witness
The miracle and marvel at the
Three blind, yelping, helpless
Bundles of fur clawing at the world
In the morning they were gone
Dad had drowned them in a sack

Lesson: never appear helpless

My father constantly belittled his wife
Our mother, shouting down her
Opinions and beliefs,
Calling her:"The Bear of Little Brain"
After Winnie the Pooh
Making her look foolish at every turn

Lesson: women are inferior

He cowers now behind four walls
Considering the outside world
A tyranny upon the senses
That is beyond his strength to deter
Our mother his only helper
In a dramatic role reversal

Lesson: profound appreciation of irony

Yet in his fragile state he softens
Accepting help and love and family
In a way he never would have before
Becoming more the man than we as children
Ever thought he was capable of being
Undercutting every stricture taught

Lesson: "family" is always a work-in-progress

© shaun patrick green 2016

1 comment:

  1. I was moved, this morning,
    by my son-once-removed.
    With painful precision he picked at brief "incidents";
    but how huge to a growing child.
    His hurt,
    his regret or longing for what could have been
    laid bare
    in words and in the mind.
    I felt him now a son-less-removed.

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