My mother’s tearless eyes were gorgeous green
Until my father – her first love – left life.
Then sadness dyed them grey when she had seen
The witch who makes a widow out of wife.
My sisters – fatherless, and feeling too
Forsaken, would have caused the stones to weep
If they had heard their sobs when darkness grew,
And sorrow’s sword had severed them from sleep.
My father’s father could not understand
Why he had earned long years of borrowed time;
A grandad, living longer in the land
Than son, lacked reason, relevance and rhyme!
Myself, with eagle eyes that faith had grew
Did fear my mother’s grief too wild to tame,
That grace it would not stifle or subdue,
So God above, she then would come to blame.
My father’s fate, some said, was twice as cruel
For those he loved, since they lived on and breathed,
But we feigned flippancy and played the fool;
Inside our shattered souls alone we seethed.