dlherrmann

His Name

He fled  

young man,  

boy  

in fear   

from the army  

or police – 

no one now knows,  

a hundred years ago:  

my great grandfather.

 

I returned  

walked his house  

his board floors,  

stairs  

and cried in reunion:  

family: once again,  

united. 

 

The last to be Amerikan – 

I bear his name.

Comments1

  • Robert Haigh

    A poignant and personal poem. I'm glad you shared it with us.



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