My Father's Father

Carved of old oak and granite,
Like a giant over common men,
Stands my father’s father,
Who had the strength of ten.
A man of kind-hearted glances
And jovial-humored eyes;
But also of stern countenance,
Before which defiance flies.
For when his brow did furrow,
And stormlight flashed in that bright eye,
One heard the distant thunder
And knew that judgement was nigh.
He strode my world a hero
Of ancient myth and cunning tale;
More Odysseus than a mortal man,
Or a Beowulf ‘gainst whom monsters fail.
A keeper of eternal knowledge
An epic king over all I knew,
My father’s father, iron-wrought,
Thoughtful, stoic, true.
But even the white-capped mountains
And the great green forests of old
Fall prey to tenacious and treacherous time,
To whom even stars must fold.
Yea, even the gods that stand so tall
Weary with their efforts and fade.
But always in my mind’s eye shall I see you:
Of old oak and granite made,
Older than all the things of this world
And wiser than the sea
Like unto a giant standing ‘til the end of time,
My father’s father, and grandfather to me.

-- In memory of Gerald Bernard Cullen, Sr. (05/15/1931 to 08/30/2011)