If I had to sum up my father
I would choose this single word: "Care".
No nails undriven, shoelaces untied were ever left,
There was always good food and a table set.

He used to struggle with words himself, 
But his actions sent the message instead:
“As long as you see me around
You have nothing to worry about. 

His soul was hidden like a cool stream,
Seeking its path under forest’s green,
But he made home warm and cosy,
Family nest priority.

He learnt when needed, to tell apart
Poison from food, good from the bad,
And lo behold, soon after that,
All the mushrooms grew in our path.

He would dig cooling pits, from clay build a stove,
Erect a tent,
Fix an engine on our rowing boat
Our campsite's the best, so we would boast. 

He carved my mother’s puppets their wooden flesh
And gave a new coat to the walls,
How they smelled fresh!
And his geraniums, never failed in summer, bright red.
 

And when most would have retired at last,
Stopped chasing money,  ambition or high life,
There he was still, working so hard,
Fending for his young girl and for the wife.

Under his care the roof and the staircase,
The balconies got rebuilt and replaced
The bells weren’t tolling for him
Only we know, just you and me,
What a great man lived among us
In this corner of “Theresienstadt”

Limping slightly, walked down the streets,
Smoking cigarettes, those damned things,
Grumpily and taking his time,
But committed to go on, to fight,
Never giving up in his heart.

And so never did, he fought on against illness,
Struggled, hoped and did earnestly invest
All his remaining strength
Into seeing doctors; he believed in himself
In healing, in miracles, in medicine’s help,
And I witnessed, how, on his deathbed
He still made sure his promises were kept. 

He was not a show – off, just loved,
On his quiet way was steadfast,
As it’s proper, that’s how he’d been
He was my father, we're not forgetting.

 

 

Loose translation of my previous poem in Hungarian. Suggestions welcome.