THIS PROUD MAN

One day this proud man, that once went to war,
Came home from work and walk straight in the door,
Just to hear the worst thing from his only son,
For he too wanted to fight in a war and hold a gun,
For his son wanted to come home proud, a hero back from war,
Well to him, there just wasn’t anything higher or anything more.
He argued with the boy, he bargained with him,
But nothing he said could make his contesting argument win,
He said to his only son, in a spit of wrath,
If you go to war this shall not be your house, your bed or your bath.
If you go and sign up for this war by your own free will,
You will be forced to hurt, to maim and to kill.
Your imagination, your open soul,
Will become forgotten and you will become a hole.
For fighting and war will be all that you know.
My son, my son, I have seen so many wars,
That have changed a good man and made so many monsters
If that be what you wish, then I will tell you true I will not live with the likes of you.
When I went to war I had but no choice, I was drafted and ripped right out of my life,
I was taken away from my family, my job and my new wife.
When I went to war I didn’t understand,
How I would be killing, and hiding, and living in quick sand.
How being in a war can leave a man on the edge,
With gun fire and bombs flying over his head as we hustle through fields,
Through dead bodies we would dredge.
The old man went straight to bed saying all he could say,
But his Son had stayed up thinking till the early morning day,
But before the old man could get up and have just one more round,
His son had made his decision and left without making a sound.
The old man sat on the porch for the rest of that day,
And for five years that’s where he would stay, regretting all the words he said that day.
To drive a smart, talented man, like his son away.
Five years went by the old man went blind from the drink
And there was only his depression and guilt to help him sink.
Then one day a stranger came to his door,
He could almost say this voice he had heard before,
The young voice spoke; he asked if this house once held a son,
The old man replied it once did, but not now he was gone.
What happened to him the sad voice replied,
The old man said I pushed him away and so he went to war and died.
The voice broke and said how do you know that to be true?
The question ripped the old man’s heart all the way through
For five years, I have had no letters, or calls, we been out of touch,
I don’t know he said, crying and gasping to breath, I had just assumed as much.
Not that he would want to talk to me, not after how I had been,
The last time we spoke there was an argument and a bit of a scene,
The young voice spoke father don’t you recognize me,
The old man cried my son I would if I could see,
But now I have gone blind from all the guilt,
And all I could do is drink and sit under my quilt.
Waiting for you to come home and forgive the sad man you now see.
His son said you will never be a sad man to me, for you forgiveness my father is free
You where right my father, for all that you said,
I became a monster, the soulless walking undead.
At sometimes I didn’t know who I had become in my head,
It was like a piece of my spirit did cry, till dead.
Now I can’t think I have no-more free mind,
For the world truly can be ugly and unkind,
He sat by his dad and gave the old man a hug,
You raised a good man, but not a military thug,
Your words rang true with me everyday,
I had to come home I had to say,
How you were right that fateful day,
And I’m sorry I went and followed my way.
No my son I had no right to say,
You need to find your own way,
I should have never pushed for you too stay.
Well said his son all is forgiven and today’s a new day.
So how’s about we go fishing what do you say,
If we sit on the pier his dad smiled, I think I can manage that way.
In the morning they set off like two little kids off to have fun,
No sadness, no fighting, and no mention of a gun.
For now this father could be a dad, and his son could be his son.
For understanding, loving and forgiving had finally come and won.

By: Xanthia Phoenix Dean