He traversed  the globe
but never deserted his own island
and yet he was my Father

Three children and one wife
commitments unfulfilled
and yet he was a parent

Wee Jimmy down the pub
sweetness and light in company
and yet he was the opposite

He died aged 62
unknown to me and you
and yet he was my Father

Memories of him are confused
what I remember
what I choose to remember
and what I make believe



poem © copyright Brian Shirra 2012


2 comments on “Father

  1. very nice,, my own father, who is sitll alive, is also an absent mystery, as he as been almost all of my life, so it’s very touching to read your poem. Thank you!

  2. dfb says:

    Yes, beautifully written and reminds me of my own father who died at 68. He was not a mystery in one sense but in another he was – he said and shared so very little. Your poem has made me think. Thank you.

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