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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 6, Number 2, June 2012

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William Guthrie
Mesa, Arizona, USA


I Wish I Could Remember My Father

I wish I could remember my father, could remember him as a man who had wise things to say to a boy, but I was a boy too busy to listen, too busy playing games, trying hard to be man . . . my way; what did he know, this man I called Dad . . . after all he was an old man when I grew big enough to recognize him, an old man with little to say; war made him old, had taken his spirit, made him a machine for killing the enemy, necessary to combat an evil that had taken his brother in the Philippine Islands war, but not a requisite skill for teaching a boy about things that matter.

water drips
from a heron's beak
small ripples

When that war had no more use for him, it discarded him and I was left with what was left . . . I wish I could remember my father as a man who had wise things to say to a boy, but sometimes, it takes a generation or two for a man to become a hero.

on the wall
shadows that need no light
silent memories

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