Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

Without hope Clinging to memories of hope Without faith To memories of faith Without family Trusting they’re waiting still We pray In remembrance of them.

One day he ate a snake But couldn’t tell me how it tastes One snake, one pot, so many mouths To feed, prisoners of war.

I dreamed of football Couldn’t play Dad watched me till I saw the ball Had turned into a head— Dad’s memory. My nightmares played instead.

He didn’t give me nightmares Told me tales of peace instead. When others spoke of bloodshed and of war I loved him more For kindness.

Strange the way you jumped at that name As if remembering a friend you’d never met. It was someone else told me How soldiers died.

Why don’t you talk about those days? Why do you turn away? Why have you left the room again? Please Dad, we’re playing at soldiers.