We thought we were right and they thought they were right , my Father walked the thin line in between .
I grew up in the troubles in Belfast and remembered how my Father continued to go to work . Making his way through the barricades and getting searched on every corner by the British Army who often made it difficult for him .
We lived in a Catholic enclave and there was always running battles between the security forces and the local lads who were not happy with the situation .
When certain people told my Father there was a rent strike and not to pauy the rent or the gas he continued to pay the rent and brought all the coins from the meter box down to the corporation to square up the amount owing for gas useage .
He stood and did what he considered to be the right thing to do .
He was not liked by some and even insulted by those who considered themselves to be in charge .
My Father went to mass every Sunday and continued to go work every day harassed and humiliated by those who considered themselves to be the peace keepers of law and order .
I penned this poem as a tribute to my fathers bravery .
The Bravery Of My Father
It was 1969 when the army came to town with guns at the ready .
There was peace for a while
and then it all went crazy .
All our nerves were unsteady .
My old man was asked to do this and that. He said no .
He did what he thought was right .
He was a family man .
He had a good heart .
He didn't want to kill or fight .
They pushed my old mans feet from under him , he fell on the Street, as the rain fell down .
The soldiers laughed and made fun of him .
He got to his feet and said ,
" This is my town ."
They took my old man's lunch box and threw it to the ground .
He put back his sandwiches.
It was a cold wind that blew through Belfast city that day .
But the fault was not his .
The bigotry and hatred shook my old man .
But he held his head proudly and said .
"This is my town ."
The troubles are over now and my Father is a long time dead .
