My grandpa wept the other day
While he sat with his hand in mine.
His gaze moved on beyond my face
Drawn back towards another time.
He spoke of faces far away
A war on Earth, a fearful place,
Where men lost hope, their lives, their souls.
The grief stood raw upon his face.
His hands shook as he gently spoke
And he rocked gently to and fro.
Like the volley of the rifles
Still haunting him from long ago.
My grandma watched with worried eyes
I raised my hand to reassure.
I listened while he told his tale
He’d never found the words before.
As his heart laid its secrets bare
I hoped he would at last find peace,
From memories of loss and pain
That marked his face in every crease.
But as his tremble slowed and stilled
As his eyes cleared and searched for mine,
I saw they held a question there
Hope that this is a better time.
My voice shook as I thanked my pa
For all that he had done for me
I told him how his sacrifice
Had made sure we could all be free.
I met his gaze and spoke of hope
Of lessons learnt, promises met
I told him we commemorate
And honour him, lest we forget.
I spoke of choice and rights and peace
Of tolerance within our time
I told him tales of harmony
I smiled and held his hand in mine.