The Patriarch Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

He was a brusque and rigid man
without a thanks or praise
in charge of ancient property
large family to raise

Rebellions were quite common then
in dusty days of yore
no motors served to ease the loads
of heavy farming chores

The fields and herds were tended to
with steely grit and sweat
there was no room for slacking off
or sit around and fret

One small mistake or careless move
could threaten life and limb
one candle unattended in a room
raised flames that danced at whim

Of births and deaths and illnesses
there were so many then
rats mice and flies brought germs and plagues
and none could guess just when

The reaper struck without a care
for youth or age or worth
his scythe swung freely and with mirth
across the darkened earth

The man grew old before his time
he seldom laughed or smiled
he suffered losses of his kin
and of his favored child

The people spoke with whispers when
the old man was in view
yet it was he who held them all
together as a crew

He had to make decision calls
and did what he thought best
although so many lives and hopes and dreams
were stunted by his tests

He was a brusque and rigid man
without a thanks or praise
in charge of ancient property
large family to raise.