A Man's Oft-Hidden Tears Poem by Maurice Harris

A Friday night just like any other, yet a man begins to cry;
Beside him, there is a lady who seeks to find out 'why? '.
'I do not know.' was the man's initial, somewhat terse, reply-
Then he began to speak more openly, though she did not pry.
Is not a man measured only by who he is, and what he does-
Not surely by any other measure, like who his Father was! ?
The man spoke of the dichotomy which torments him every day-
A pain that none other could fathom, nor could he hope to say.
The Father he knew: a silent and simple, yet hard-working type,
Could not be the man described to him, in that Christmas snipe-
Yet, he surely is-or was, as he passed long ago from this Earth.
He did not know the monster, only the Father there since his birth.
He remembers that man so very well, yet recognizes the duality
Under which he chose to live his life, and accepts this painful reality.
He misses the Father he knew, almost every day-yet, is glad he is gone;
The monster is dead, yet the Father that he knew, continues to live on-
In all the good things that would not have been, were it not for this man.
A complex connection exists even now, parcel to Heavenly Father's Divine Plan,
Where a man with so much to offer, needed to pay the ultimate price,
To ensure those left behind were safe, from the grips of the monster's vice!
Had he not been taken, this Father would have been 70 years old tomorrow-
Though he understands the necessity of it all, there is still much sorrow
Associated with what was otherwise, a most untimely passing indeed;
Solace is gained though, as those left behind know he is now freed
From the demon that tortured him while he was here-his life, the toll.
Only now can he look back and prayerfully ponder whether his Father's soul
Was saved by the barter he was asked to pay-perhaps he will never know.
More than his death, his Father's ‘life' left him with a pain that will never go,
Never abate, nor ease his misplaced sense of guilt over what his Father did;
No amount of time, nor explication, could unmask for him, the Father who hid
Behind a morally shameful mask, while he pretended to be someone he was not.
Still, though inexorably scarred by a most unfortunate association-one he never sought-
He mourns for the man who taught him how to work hard, to provide, and to drive;
Many, many times he has gone over mind his mind, what he may have said to him while alive,
When he found out that unforgettable Christmas night about all the heinous sins
Of the Father he believed he knew, because without this, his healing never begins.
He remembers, as a pall bearer, that cold November day so many years ago,
When he believed no pain could be greater than the one he was then forced to know;
He was so very wrong indeed, as the anguish he know feels is so very much greater.
If not for the unceasing love and indefatigable guidance of the One and True Creator,
He too may have suffered an untimely demise, the result of a heart, broken and battered,
Yet was saved from this fate for reasons he still does not know, the answer remains scattered
In a purpose he is yet to fulfill; perhaps one day he will know and question this no longer,
But for now, he endeavors to move past the pain he carries and continue to get stronger.

- Maurice Harris,6 January 2013