MY FATHER

I

(c1978)

To most it simply is their livelihood

To change the live silver until it's dead

And filthy clanging silver and they could

Just as well pass their days in making bread

Or, if they had the brains, transcripts of Greek.

Day clashing after day of scratching knives

Strung into week following tedious week

Grind out their tepid, barely half- lived lives.

He's not like this. To him the lithe white flakes

Of muscle and the delicate web of bones

Constitute his material - when he hones

His knife and soothes the flesh and bones apart

It is his magnum opus which he makes

For every fillet is a work of art.

II

(25/12/90)

Perfection was the aim: even his writing

Was evidence of reaching for perfection,

Unlike my own crabbed hand. His mind delighting

In flawlessness could show a predilection

For no one of my kind; his approbation

Seemed to evade me - rightly I confess.

Yet graciousness that salved our situation

Was further evidence of saintliness.

Those who each day saw him about his trade

Found no more apt description of him than,

In all their market, "the last gentleman".

They could not fathom that in all these days

Another Man was more and more displayed:

The Perfect Man, through faith, engaged his gaze.

III

(26/12/90)

Gentleness, humour, generosity:

He never spanked me once - in case he hurt;

And I recall one over-boisterous day

When deeds more vigorous and words more curt

Would have more aptly answered my attack.

When he told jokes you'd lose the point till after

But not feel any sorrier for the lack:

He'd spoil the tale, yet cheer you, with his laughter.

As for his generosity, that theme

Is subject of abundant evidence;

He worked long hours for substance to dispense

And used his time for visits to deliver

His many gifts - because of the esteem

Of Him he knew as the transcendent Giver.

IV

(27/12/90)

Perfection was His aim: in every day

The work of God progressed towards its end.

Natural aptitudes had lessened sway

In Father's trade; instead he could perpend - 

And grow in - thoughts of Jesus. God had pleasure

Seeing a soul advancing towards His aim,

Until He added to perfect this treasure

The final thought of "Jesus Christ, the Same".

If Father loved to see a plump and fresh

Haddock or sole come cleanly from the bone

Through skill achieved by careful toil alone

So that no trace of worthlessness was left

His Saviour's stroke which soothed him from the flesh

Was infinitely swifter and more deft.

The Lord Jesus took my father to be with Himself 32 years ago today.