I watched a memorial service on TV today
65 years ago water flooded our country
And more than 1000 people died in
The fast rushing water, lives stolen

I saw footage from the time, men
Throwing bags of sand on the land
Strengthening land so water would
Lose the fight for control over land

I saw soldiers work alongside them and
I cried, deep heaving breath, tears dripping
My dad was there, then, as a young soldier
The thought of him there pushed grief out

He died four years ago, a frail old man
(Like those who came to the memorial)
His mind gone long before his death
But there, on TV, I imagined him, young

I saw the horrors he talked about once
And I cried for the young man he was
And for the frail old man, he became
And in that moment, I missed them both

One Reply to “Flood”

  1. Hi Sylvia – lovely empathetic poem … our fathers … and what they experienced … and saw. 1953 was a bad year … the Netherlands had it much worse than England, though that was bad for many local communities … with thoughts – Hilary

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