Father

was there a time when gentleness
touched our body and soul as children
was there a time when goodness
and love was felt from his hands

betrayed his spouse and deeply hurt
all the children left sad and distraught
heavy hands with drunken breath
cowering in corners we grieved

we grieved for the death of our love
we cried for the loss of our respect
we mourned his untold despair
for his unhappiness and shame
 
his short affairs to assure himself
his abusive ways to show control
sadly he lost us all
as we retreated from his hold

we felt his kicks and slaps
but the pain was sheathed in sympathy
we heard his shouts and screams
but they were meaningless sounds

we were grateful for he provided
us roof over head and met our needs
we smiled and respectfully nodded
when he spoke to us, though so loud

his mother was a shaman fierce and bold
they looked the same lips straight and cruel
their eyes borrowed the grey of the sky
sharp as the eagle's eye

but he was our father after all
the man our mother stood by
until the day he breathed his last
she cried softly at his grave

We remember
Vincent...father.