Dad

I remember blue eyes, intense, red more than white,
couldn’t hold his child’s plea, seemed honor shamed
by some past decision made, in all and despite.
With us kids left unsaid, no mention aimed.

I remember his silence, drug induced I guess.
Never how’s your day, or tell me more.
Endless days of pills and pain, no forgiveness blessed.
Always what waiting when, wasted from war.

I remember salesman’s charm ( not to us ) to others each.
Why does an Injun wear a hat?
To keep his wig wam – there, like that.
And we kids seen, not heard, rolled our eyes,
love’s steel fortress breached.

I remember the funeral priest spoke at his.
He met him at some past wedding greeting.
Said “product of the Depression and war it is”.
Knew God and him, from some boozy meeting.

I remember Mom, now Nana, her oft hand way,
“he ran I think, he left his friends, - he broke”,
as we discussed my Dad as she looked back one day;
and she made an impression as she spoke.

I remember his island’s badge, red with courage,
scars of bullet’s hole, saber’s stomach stab.
Who’s to say what terror, earned in jungle foliage?
Who’s to judge? No not ours to count the tab.

For lost eyes (in spite all) red and white, intense blue,
are remembered by buddies left that day.
Lie in peace and rest, joined with men tried true;
forgiven, - by both them ( and him ) - I pray.