:) My Dad's Classic Faith - Poem by Bill Grace
At 50 I finally see
what precocious 10 could sense
but not articulate
The Mass - was only the ice berg's tip at sea.
Dad was an earnest lad
son of a Gloucester gal,
sweet fish monger of deep faith,
and an alcoholic father
who wounded Dad's deep pride.
War and a Naushon Forbes
gave father his life long tasks
he understood the savagery of life
yet left the chimes of music to a valley.
"Pop" would not take a drink
the Pope could not have ordered it
nor any lesser mortal,
his hope was in that Mass,
though he may well have known -
but never said a word -
that Father's secretary
took care of more than paper.
Do not carelessly dismiss
this thing called faith
that spared me an alcoholic father
a harsh man who could not understand a poet son
he understood this world
I can not blame his need of hope for another.
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