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Array
(
[sid] => 160755
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => An Unpalatable Truth
[time] => 2010-06-24 05:51:58
[hometext] => When I was 14 my father told me his views on the Irish troubles, being from Kerry he had strong views, views I ultimately disagreed with.
[bodytext] => I can remember with absolute clarity The day you told me the truth. It was so shocking that a deep darkness Descended over the workings of my mind. You were my father, a church man, a good Catholic Who prayed for weekly redemption, yet you hit me, A stinging blow struck by an unpalatable truth. The troubles, you said, were your troubles too, In that far away land you still called home, even after years Living in the English capital. You hated the heavy handed Brits, but am I not a Brit? Born and brought up in the very city you revile? You fell silent then and that silence said more Than the venomous poison of your words. And even though the years keep chipping away And time deconstructs my memories of you, I see you often in my dreams, Pencil thin and bare backed under a venomous sun, The ocean below groaning under the weight of uncertainty, The soft golden sands whispering your name. Always you are cutting turf with a gleaming spade And always on your face a grimace tells me That you, even then, were predicting your own future. A future in a faraway city that would never be home, A city fostered on you by circumstance, A city that would harbour your thoughts And let fester an unpalatable truth that would never leave your mind. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 93 [topic] => 21 [informant] => cashfan1 [notes] => Corrected spelling as requested ~ Moderator_18 June 24, 2010 [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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