My Father's Grief
by Linda Busby Parker
My father never cried at funerals,
he, a simple, ordinary, strong man
whose jaws grew hard as a sentinel’s.
As he walked through devils’ portals,
no sobs, no tears. Great silent man.
My father never cried at funerals.
Rugged hands in front of him, pain visceral.
When did he grieve? He who drew a deadpan,
while his jaws grew hard as a sentinel’s.
Man of the past, who lived by principles,
who did not show his grief during his lifespan.
My father never cried at funerals.
Lessons from fathers to sons, lessons ancestral,
bottle-up and cap pain like a real he-man.
My father’s jaws grew hard as a sentinel’s.
I’m grateful he held earth in its rotational
courses and all of us in place across his wingspan.
My father never cried at funerals.
His jaws grew hard as a sentinel’s.
he, a simple, ordinary, strong man
whose jaws grew hard as a sentinel’s.
As he walked through devils’ portals,
no sobs, no tears. Great silent man.
My father never cried at funerals.
Rugged hands in front of him, pain visceral.
When did he grieve? He who drew a deadpan,
while his jaws grew hard as a sentinel’s.
Man of the past, who lived by principles,
who did not show his grief during his lifespan.
My father never cried at funerals.
Lessons from fathers to sons, lessons ancestral,
bottle-up and cap pain like a real he-man.
My father’s jaws grew hard as a sentinel’s.
I’m grateful he held earth in its rotational
courses and all of us in place across his wingspan.
My father never cried at funerals.
His jaws grew hard as a sentinel’s.
Linda Busby Parker recently fell in love with poetry. She is a winner of the James Jones First Novel Award and the Langum Prize for Historical Fiction for her novel, Seven Laurels. She served as a scholar in fiction at Sewanee Writers’ Conference and a Fellow in Fiction at Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. Find her short stories in Provincetown Arts, Big Muddy, and Confluence. Find her book reviews in the San Diego Union-Tribune. She's a poetry newbie.