Poetry

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My grandfather was a complicated man. Life had hardened him toward most things including his family and children. Times were tough and life was tough. He tried to deal with the stresses of the times of a large family and utter poverty. To relieve this stress he turned to alcohol in hopes of some kind of release. He was not a bad man per se. But a lost man in trying to find strength in the bottle. He was just a man with failings and weaknesses as we all have. He didn't want to rely on anyone which regrettably included God. He didn't realize he was relying on alcohol as a crutch, and as a result was hurting himself and all those around him. Most importantly, a young son who was following after his footsteps. My dad was this young son who always wondered why his dad never returned the love and approval he craved. Here is a poem he wrote about his relationship as a boy with his dad.

He cringed in the shadow of his darkened room-
Fearful to venture out from the vague safety of the gloom.
He'd been disobedient and the penalty he now feared,
As father's return from his work drew near.
This scene was re-enacted time after time,
Just the battle for attention and affection was his only crime.
He stood at the door of our hearts begging entrance in,
Hurt and dismayed with a battle he just couldn't win.
With tears in his eyes and tears in his heart,
Hoping to gain entrance with each new start.
He ask and ask but received no reply-
As his hungry heart wondered ,"Why, Why, Why?"
by
Lance Gargus

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