| |
My father was made of steel.
Forged in blood and hammered by life.
He chose to ignore the tragedies
that should have brought him down…
the death of his father and mother far too early,
the lack of education that should have cowed
him in front of college bred bosses,
the fear that should have made him
hesitate in death situations.
But when infused with booze,
the traits that made him a fierce warrior
turned him into a tyrant,
and when he realized that
he quit drinking and said
“I am a man and I will be good
to my wife and children.”
But one day the worlds collided.
And when soberly facing drunken younger men
who insulted his wife and called him weak,
men who only a few years ago
would have went home bloodied and wondering
how some short old man with balding head
had beaten them senseless,
my father turned and walked away,
then he went home and cried…
not because he was embarrassed
by backing down from a fight,
but because maybe this was a fight
he should have fought…
and because he backed down
for the first time in his life
from fear.
Coach Roth
|
|
User Rating: |
|
10.0
/10
(2 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend