Fisherman Father

(dedicated to my father, a child victim of a Polio)

I feel your shame
As you swing your bum leg
Over the edge of the rocking dingy.
I hear the thud
When you settle down hard
On the salt-weary bench.

But I see your pride
When you grip those oars
Looking like everyone else
A whole man at last on the open sea
And safe at last.