He nailed his voice
to the heart of a mast. Sailed the seven seas.
Learnt to speak up for himself.
Spent time in jail in South Africa
For defending his black friends
From the beatings of the Boer.
The winds took him hither and thither 
In wartime, he never felt complacent.  Rest assured.
Never self-indulgent. A convinced
and sentimental socialist he shared an in-pouring of grief at children's hunger.
He learnt to swallow pain and anger.
Just one more inheritance
From the spare the rod,
Spoil the child 'Christian'
'Carers' who loved to bully orphans.
Young boys alone, unprotected,
From this shamful malignancy.
Who would speak up for them
In the hungry 30s?
His magnificent achievement
Was that he broke the circle of abuse.
With his own children and grandchildren
He learnt how to love and be loved
He leant how to trust and be trusted.

He was my dad. 

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