I grew up in the troubles in Belfast and remembered how my Father continued to go to work . Making his way through the barricades and getting searched on every corner by the British Army who often made it difficult for him .
We lived in a Catholic enclave and there was always running battles between the security forces and the local lads who were not happy with the situation .
When certain people tolf my Father there was a rent strike , he continued to pay the rent .
He stood and did what he considered to be the right thing to do .
He was not liked by some and even insulted by those who considered themselves to be in charge .
My Father went to mass every Sunday and continued to go work every day harassed and humiliated by those who considered themselves to be the peace keepers of law and order .
I penned this poem as a tribute to my fathers bravery .
The Bravery Of My Father
It was 1969 when the army came to town with guns at the ready .
There was peace for a while
and then it all went crazy .
All our nerves were unsteady .
My old man was asked to do this and that. He said no .
He did what he thought was right .
He was a family man .
He had a good heart .
He didn't want to kill or fight .
They pushed my old mans feet from under him , he fell on the Street, as the rain fell down .
The soldiers laughed and made fun of him .
He got to his feet and said ,
" This is my town ."
They took my old man's lunch box and threw it to the ground .
He put back his sandwiches.
It was a cold wind that blew through Belfast city that day .
But the fault was not his .
The bigotry and hatred shook my old man .
But he shook his head proudly and said .
"This is my town ."
The troubles are over now and my Father is a long time dead .
God ,look out for my old man .
He was brave
and didn't deserve to be put to shame .
I don't know the soldiers names
who mocked my old man ,
or even why they ever came .
The End
By Doctor Write
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-06-17 08:52:40
Last Login: 11.19.08
Visits as of 12-12-07: 57
