Fathers Of Atonement Poem by Frank Bana

 
I saw Leonard Cohen on TV
slightly stooped, shining white hair
dinner jacket, black bow tie
 
it almost broke my fragile heart
to see him there,  soft poet of white heat
go forth among a multitude
 
that did not care much for his art
and were not turned to wonder, nor to stone.
He called us to repent
 
I don't remember anymore
how to repent, or on what day
falls our Atonement, how I must atone.
 
I saw my father yesterday
in army gear, his green beret
bearing the red badge of the queen
 
on leave in an American scene
gunshots rang out, his heavy booted feet
fell on the hills of Israel, Palestine
 
before my father left
waving and headed slowly down the track
he turned his grey head and looked down at me
 
he said, leave Palestine alone:
after centuries of peace and rain
they will invite us to come back again.