Crosses We Bear
I've had a good life; it's a cross that I bear,
For I know, there are many who've not fared as well!
I lived through my own Auschwitz and did it with flare,
But survivor's guilt still is a personal hell.
Regret now time wasted in hating my dad
My mom taught me to share (but Dad could not somehow),
Like her, wounded by men, (her love all that I had)
A dysfunctional family mired in the now!
Dad’s life winding down he experienced strokes,
Long from home, I was present for one of the worst,
Does not recognize Mom, seems it must be a hoax,
For this mountainous man to be frail and so cursed!
Recovery came, but each time left its scars
We thought Alzheimer’s first, though no doctor could tell,
But dad’s distance remained, seemed his home was on Mars,
And that life with his family, one more motel.
One trip to a specialist, he did voice pain,
“Son, when I’m so confused, be aware it’s not me!”
But when Mom wasn’t there, his reaction was plain,
He felt kidnapped, and lost, his heir 'out of his tree.' (1)
I honored his soul, proud to stay in his will,
And protected my mom, knowing that’s what he’d do,
While I live with his words, hope that I serve him still,
“No one else in my life has betrayed me like you!”
Brian Johnston
April 13, 2018
Poet's Notes:
(1) "Out of his tree" - A phrase that means to lose touch with reality.
|